From One Valdez to Another
by Neofelis Solis
Summary: Sammy Valdez didn't believe in curses or monsters or gods. Not until December 18, 1941, the day his life began to fall apart. This is the story of Sammy's journey toward a second chance and a new name.
1. Lost Chances

**Author's note:**

**First of all, I am quite convinced that Leo Valdez is Sammy Valdez's grandson (maybe great-grandson) and the second life of Sammy's spirit. From what we're shown of Sammy, none of his behavior seems like it would be out of character for Leo in that situation. Riordan has presented the idea of soul rebirth again and again through the series. Luke said he was planning to try twice more in hopes of reaching the Isle of the Blest. Bianca di Angelo was revealed to have chosen rebirth as of son of Neptune.**

**This seems like too interesting a potential plot point to waste, and Riordan's setup of the connection between Leo and Sammy seems like the perfect opportunity to use it. Since the soul's memories are wiped in the Lethe before rebirth, having someone recognize their behaviour from a previous life seems like the only way it could be confirmed and used for the plot. Not to mention how Riordan loves giving us hints at important plot points very early on (the coffin Kronos rises from appears in book 2, Festus appears in the Demigod Files (before book 5 was out yet)).**

**As Percy himself said, he has yet to come across a coincidence in all his adventures.**

**That said, I am not Rick Riordan, and therefore I do not own these characters, Camp Halfblood, or any of its associated universe.**

**This story will have quite a bit of Sammy/Hazel (especially in the first chapter) and some hints at Leo/Hazel at the end. However, it mostly focuses on Sammy and the important points along his journey to rebirth as Leo. I'd say this author's note has gone on far too long, so on with the show!**

LINELINELINE

LINELINELINE

**Chapter 1: Lost Chances**

_December 18, 1941_

Sammy Valdez knew about gravity. He had few scars on his knees to prove it. Some old guy had gotten bonked on the head with an apple and realized stuff falls. Yep, gravity. He could ace a test about it. Or at least _pass_ at test about it.

But ever since yesterday, gravity had given up on him. Sammy felt as though he might fly right over the New Orleans if he jumped too high. Even as he ran he felt lighter than air, ready to soar with the birds.

A policeman gave him a glare, as though it were some sort of crime to run top speed down the sidewalks smiling like a lunatic.

"Lovely day, officer!" Sammy saluted as he darted by, the hard soles of his shoes making a royal ruckus against the concrete.

Whatever the policeman had to say was lost to the wind and car exhaust, because Sammy was a full block away by the time the frazzled man could come up with a suitable insult.

He darted and dodged down the street, very nearly bowling over pedestrians in his mad dash to Queen Marie's Gris Gris.

Like the day before, the weather was mild for December, with the sun shining down and a warm breeze coming in from the ocean. The streets were thronged with sailors and soldiers and merchants peddling their wares and trying to avoid being run over by the automobiles skimming the curbs. The city seemed so alive and bright, its chaos throbbing in rhythm with the heartbeat pounding his ears, beating out a solid frantic chant.

_Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel._

Hazel Levesque. He'd kissed her and she'd smiled. It had been on the cheek, but it had sent Sammy spiraling through the sky ever since. He'd liked Hazel from the beginning. She laughed at his jokes, she kept him out of trouble, she took every horrible thing people ever said about her without becoming bitter or mean. She was the kindest person Sammy had ever known, and he hated the way the other kids at school treated her. He could never understand how they could bear the sadness that crossed her face at their words, how they could be immune to the infectious joy in her gold eyes when she smiled.

But he hadn't known if she felt the same about him. Not until yesterday. Not until he followed that one stupid, perfect, dangerous impulse that had urged him to kiss her.

She'd smiled. She'd beamed. She'd spent the rest of their ride with the same blissful smile as he had.

Hazel Levesque loved him.

Sammy whooped with joy as he jumped over a pile of crates, probably making several fellow pedestrians question his sanity, but he didn't care what they thought.

Everything in his life seemed to be falling into perfect place. Yesterday, after Hazel had left, his boss at the stables had come in and seen him rubbing down Hazel's bay. For a moment Sammy had been terrified that he'd been found out, and that Boss Mason would put an end to his secret rides with Hazel.

But the old man had completely misunderstood what he saw. He thought Sammy was actually doing _extra_ work without having been asked. "Going above and beyond your duty," or something like that. Sammy had been quick to play along, and it had payed off with a crisp dollar bill that was now clenched in his fist, just begging to be spent.

He was going to take Hazel to the movies. The Maltese Falcon, Dumbo, Citizen Kane, whatever she wanted to see. There would be a newsreel about the war beforehand,and if he was lucky it would focus on the Army Air Corps. Sammy spent half his time away from Hazel pining over pictures of aeroplanes in a booklet that had come in his cereal box. In his best dreams he sat at the controls of one of those flying machines, boldly leading his fellow flyboys into enemy territory.

Maybe that is what would happen. Once he was old enough (or at least tall enough to pretend he was), he'd join the Air Corps. He'd write letters to Hazel every day, and when he came back as a war hero with a chest full of medals, he'd find a great job and save up and buy a big house and a very special golden ring. Not a diamond ring though, not for Hazel. She hated precious gems now, from all the trouble this talk of her mother's gems being cursed had brought. Maybe he'd find one with a pearl. Those came from clams or something didn't they? That wouldn't count as a gem.

As Sammy rounded the last turn, he was so absorbed in his daydreams, he ran smack into 'ol Mr. Delmont, the manager of the jazz club under Queen Marie's.

"Omph!"

"Yowch!"

"Sorry!"

"_Sammy_."

Mr. Delmont straightened his jacket and shook the foot Sammy had stepped on.

"I'm sorry, sir, very sorry Mr. Delmont, sir. Have you noticed gravity is weaker today?" Sammy's smile was starting to make his cheeks sore, but he didn't care one little bit. Nothing could ruin this day. "How are you doing? Is that a new suit? Do you know if Hazel is home?"

'Ol Mr. Delmont's 'boys will be boys' smile disappeared in a flash, and Sammy's stomach gave an uncomfortable jerk.

"Mr. Delmont?"

The man sighed and glanced guiltily at his feet.

"Mr. Delmont, where's Hazel?"

After a moment of silence that seemed to last a lifetime, the man finally spoke.

"Alaska."

Sammy waited for the punch line.

It didn't come.

"What did you say, sir?" Sammy was certain he had heard wrong. Alaska? Wasn't that in Russia somewhere?

Mr. Delmont took a deep breath. "Something happened last night. I slipped out for a smoke while the band was warming up, and I saw Hazel float by. And I mean _float_. Her head was too far in the clouds to even notice me. I didn't think anything of it, but a minute later, a man just appeared, out of nowhere it seemed. And let me tell you, this man was something strange. Whiter than death, with eyes like Adolf Hitler. Almost gave me a heart attack I'll tell you. He just walked to the base of the stairs and waited."

Sammy's fingers twitched with impatience while he waited for 'ol Mr. Delmont to clear his throat and continue.

"A minute later Hazel came running back down, looking like she'd seen the reaper himself. Ran smack into the man just like you ran into me. Then they just stared at each other for a while. Poor girl looked petrified, and I can't blame her. That man... there was something about him that made you want to run away but also forget where your feet were."

"They talked a little. He acted like he knew her, talked about a curse. I have to say I don't remember much of it, I was just focused on praying that white man wouldn't turn around and see me. He called himself Pluto. Just Pluto. Don't know if that was supposed to be his last name or his first. He just gave Hazel a pad of paper and some colored pencils and walked up into Queen Marie's. Hazel snuck back up a minute later."

"I shouldn't have stayed, I know I shouldn't have. But I couldn't help it. I couldn't hear much, but Marie started shouting and screaming and throwing things judging by what I heard. Something about his protection killing them, and him turning her against him. I don't know. But suddenly it stopped. He never left that I saw, but it was like he wasn't there anymore. Didn't hear him say another thing, didn't hear either Marie or Hazel talk to him. Queen Marie started shouting at Hazel. Telling her to pack. I had to go back into the bar after that, but about an hour later, Queen Marie came and told me they were moving to Alaska, and to sell the apartment up there."

"I'm sorry Sammy. They left for the train station last night. Hazel is gone."

Sammy felt like he'd been thrown into freezing water. Every muscle was tensed, but he couldn't seem to think clearly. His mind was reeling to try to understand what he had just heard.

"No. No, that isn't possible, they couldn't leave just like that. Hazel wouldn't leave, not without saying goodbye."

"I don't think she had a choice, Sammy. Her mother... hasn't been herself lately. She doesn't treat Hazel like a daughter anymore. More like a curse."

Curse.

Sammy hated that word.

On sudden impulse he bolted around ol' Mr. Delmont and up the stairs to Hazel's apartment. He banged on the door. There was no answer. He yanked at the handle and the door flew open.

The room was trashed. Furniture was knocked over, books had been thrown from their shelves, and shards of porcelain were scattered across the floor.

"Hazel!" Sammy called.

There wasn't an answer. He ran across the room and pulled open the door to Hazel's bedroom.

The bed was still made, but the drawers of her dresser were open, and most were bare. Torn scraps of paper clung by nails to the walls. Hazel must have pulled her favorite pictures down in a hurry. A few remaining drawings were scattered around. Horses and carnival masks and a beautiful sunset that must have taken every color Hazel could find.

At Sammy's feet was the strangest of Hazel's drawings. It was an ancient looking ship, with rows of oars and sails. Sammy was much more of a Air Corps boy than a Navy boy, but he really did like the masthead. It was a red eyed dragon. He remembered asking Hazel why she had drawn it. It wasn't her usual style. But even Hazel didn't know what had possessed her to draw it. She had been bored and it had just come out of her pencil, entirely unplanned.

"Sammy."

Th boy almost jumped though the ceiling when he heard Mr. Delmont's voice behind him. The old man was just standing there, a sad look in his eyes.

"She's gone," he repeated. "I guess I'll have to sell the place. Whatever you want in here is yours. The drawings and books and good luck charms. Any furniture you can carry."

Sammy didn't like the way Mr. Delmont was talking. He sounded like he was reading off the Final Will and Testament of Hazel and Marie Levesque.

"Don't get rid of anything yet," he mumbled, still staring at the picture of the boat. "Give them a week or two. Queen Marie can be a little crazy sometimes, but I can't believe she'd just run off in the middle of the night and leave everything behind. And live in... Alaska?"

Mr. Delmont nodded gravely. "She looked pretty serious," he murmured, probably not even expecting Sammy to hear him. "But," he continued in a louder tone, "that's not a bad idea. I'll give them two weeks before I do anything."

Sammy nodded.

Mr. Delmont seemed to understand. He turned to go, then paused.

"Sammy, do know if Hazel might have been mulatto?"

"Huh?" Sammy grunted.

"It's just... some of the things that man, Pluto, said, and some of the things Hazel and Queen Marie said... made me wonder if he might be her father."

Sammy thought about it, then shrugged. "I have no idea. She and her mother have some Creole blood, but Queen Marie would never tell Hazel about her father beyond saying he ruined their lives."

"That would fit a lot of the what Queen Marie shouted at Pluto about."

Sammy frowned. "Then that probably was her father."

Mr. Delmont whistled. "Amazing. The man was scary as death itself, but Hazel was always so sweet."

"She _is_ sweet, Mr. Delmont. Not _was_."

Mr. Delmont didn't respond. Maybe he felt the same nasty feeling in the pit of his stomach Sammy did.

It felt like they were standing in a graveyard.

After a minute of silence, Mr. Delmont slipped away just as quietly as he had come, leaving Sammy alone in the empty house.

Sammy realized he was still had his dollar bill crumpled in his fist. He uncurled his fingers and stared at it. Wondering what movie they would have seen. What the newsreel would have said. Whether Hazel would have laughed. A lifetime of possibilities flashed before his eyes, ones that had seemed so close only a few minutes ago.

Possibilities that might well be lost forever.

"No," Sammy grumbled, smacking the side of his own head. That was no way to think. Hazel would be back. Who traveled to Alaska in the middle of winter anyway? It was stupid.

"Seems like a lot of trouble to go through to refill your icebox," he muttered.

Sammy grinned. That was the spirit. Think of jokes to tell Hazel when she got back.

He stuffed the bill in the pocket of his trousers, promising himself he would save it until he could use it to take Hazel to the movies.

He wasn't going to let yesterday be the last time he saw Hazel if he could do anything about it.

With a determined stride and a head filling with icicle jokes, Sammy marched out of Hazel's room and toward the front door.

He was halfway across the room when he spotted it.

Just a tiny flash of red on the floor.

For one horrible moment he thought it was blood, but then he realized it was a ruby. One of the infamous Lavesque jewels.

Anger flashed through Sammy, remembering all the times Hazel had been taunted and bullied over these stupid rocks. He crouched down next to it, careful not to touch the broken pieces of what must have once been a very nice vase.

He didn't believe in curses, and definitely didn't believe Hazel would ever do anything to hurt innocent people.

So he reached down to snatch up the jewel.

But the moment before his fingers touched the smooth surface, Sammy remembered the only other time he had ever seen one of Hazel's strange valuables.

_They were sitting under a tree in the park, when Sammy had spotted a gold nugget lying next to Hazel._

_"Hey, look, you're sprouting gold," Sammy teased, reaching for the little nugget._

_Hazel yelped like she'd been electrocuted and slapped Sammy's hand away. And he meant **slapped**. A serious 'makes a sound like a whip and knocks your hand into the treetrunk' kind of slap._

_"**Ow!** Holy-"_

_"Sorry," Hazel murmured franticly, shoving the gold nugget in her pocket. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."_

_"It's fine," Sammy replied, shaking his battered hand. He glanced up at Hazel. "You don't really believe what those kids say about a curse do you?"_

_Hazel looked at her feet and nodded. She looked miserable, and that was one thing Sammy couldn't stand._

_"Well that's a relief," he said casually, flopping back against the treetrunk._

_"What?"_

_"If you have a curse, then I can tell you about **my** curse."_

_Hazel looked at him with utter shock. "You have a curse too?"_

_"Of course," Sammy replied, a smile spitting his face. "I am cursed to be amazing."_

_Hazel laughed and gave his shoulder a playful shove. Her golden eyes were glittering, and Sammy decided he liked them better than any real gold._

_But a moment later, that shadow fell across her face again._

_"Will you promise me something, Sammy?"_

_"Sure. Am I going to regret it? Are you going to make me sing jazz on the rooftop of St. Aggies?"_

_Hazel laughed again. "Don't tempt me. But... will you please promise me that you'll never touch one of my jewels or gold pieces? Please?"_

_Sammy sat up so he could look her in the eye and set his hand over his heart. "Hazel Levesque, I, Samuel Leonardo Valdez, herby solemnly swear to never touch any gem, jewel, precious metal, or other sparkly substance that is near you, next to you, on you, in your house, near Queen Marie, next to Queen Marie, on Queen Marie, or associated with you and/or Queen Marie. How's that?"_

_"Perfect," Hazel replied, a smile on her face once more._

_Sammy grinned. "I know. It's my curse."_

_Hazel smacked his arm again, and it was Sammy's turn to laugh._

Sammy sighed and pulled his hand away. He stood and glanced around the room. If the jewels really were cursed -which he still didn't entirely believe- Hazel wouldn't want them lying around where nice people like 'ol Mr. Delmont might pick them up.

Sammy looked around the house until he found a leather, drawstring bag Queen Marie had used to hold 'magical herbs.' Oregano most likely. Maybe catmint.

Once he'd emptied it and found a napkin, he began scouring the floor for any jewels that might have gotten left behind in the rush. In cracks between the floorboards. Under the furniture. Hidden by the vase shards. Whenever he found one he picked it up with the napkin, careful to never let them touch his skin, and put them in the bag.

When he was certain he'd found them all he tied the bag as tightly as he could. He had seven gems, and one large gold nugget.

He would keep them safe for Hazel, and give them back when he saw her next.

Sammy walked down the stairway, popped in to remind Mr. Delmont that he should find the key to the apartment and lock it, and started his trek back home. He felt worn out. He wouldn't be running _this_ time.

Something was very wrong. He'd noticed that Queen Marie had seemed more angry and off-kilter than usual lately. If she was willing to abandon everything she had and move to Alaska in the middle of December, then her mind may well have broken entirely. Hazel could be in danger.

In fact, in the pit of his stomach, he was almost certain she was.

He decided he would give it a week. Maybe two.

If Hazel wasn't back by then, Sammy was going after her.

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**If you enjoy, please review. It keeps me inspired to write faster, and this is my first time posting my fanfics, so any feedback will be greatly appreciated.**


	2. Mickey Mouse's Dog is a God?

**Authors Note:**** Oh my goodness, thank you _so much_ Slightlysane. Your review made my day. I've put a lot of effort and research into this story, so I'm so glad you think it is turning out well. A big thank you to Time2Wake as well. I really, really appreciate that both of you took the time to write a review. As I've said, they make my day. 3**

**On that note, I just thought I would mention that this probably won't be a very strong T. The main reason I rated it that high was because I knew I was going to show the racism of the time more than Riordan did. It is truly sickening to read what it was like in that time for anyone not of the _right_ European decent.**

**Once again, I will point out that I am not Rick Riordan. I do not have access to his brain, laptop, or secret notes. Therefor this is fanfiction, and I don't own the Heroes of Olympus/Percy Jackson characters, world, or tofu tacos.**

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**Chapter 2: Micky Mouse's Dog is a God?**

_January 2, 1942_

A week passed, and still there was no news of Hazel. Christmas came and went. Sammy had a horrible sinking feeling in his gut that kept telling him he was never going to see her again. He did his best to ignore it.

But as the two week mark was approaching, Sammy had to admit Hazel was not coming back.

But Sammy Valdez was not known to give up easily. He was certain Hazel was in trouble, and he was determined to help her. There weren't many people in this world Sammy felt any real affection for, but for those few, his loyalty was absolute.

So he tried to talk to his parents about the possibility of going to Alaska to rescue Hazel. He told them how he'd asked around, and that he was now dead certain that Queen Marie had lost her mind, and she seemed set on bringing Hazel down with her. She had been overheard having conversations with herself, convincing herself that Hazel was cursed and poisoned.

But his parents refused to listen. They said they didn't have the money to spare for a wild goose chase to Alaska. They said that there was nothing he could do, and he should just accept it.

Still, Sammy refused to give up. He contemplated his options from the back row of his English classroom, drumming his fingers on the desk and balancing his chair on the two back legs.

Slowly he began to piece together a plan. He needed money, and he knew of a very wealthy looking man who might also have some affection for Hazel.

Pluto.

Sammy wrote his name in inch-high letters on a sheet of notebook paper.

Pluto.

He stared at the name, willing it to reveal its secrets. First name, last name, who knew? Sammy knew he had heard it before. There was a newly discovered planet named pluto, and a Disney character, but, he had the feeling that the fancy-suited, Hitler-eyed man 'ol Mr. Delmont had described would not appreciate being compared to a playful cartoon dog.

Sammy had interrogated Mr. Delmont a dozen times in the past fifteen days, trying to extract every last detail he could about the night of Hazel's departure, and the mysterious Pluto. It would make sense for Hazel's father to be white, even though Hazel didn't look any less black than her mother.

A white man would not have been allowed to marry Queen Marie. He might have promised to send her money to help take care of Hazel and not followed through, and that was why Queen Marie hated him so much. Sammy thought about the man just showing up out of the blue on Hazel's thirteenth birthday, and giving her a few colored pencils, as if that fixed everything. What a crumb.

This man obviously wasn't very concerned for Hazel. Sammy could probably get himself a boatload of trouble trying to beg a white man for money to rescue his illegitimate colored daughter, but he really didn't have any better options right now.

"Mr. Valdez, this class and this schoolday are over."

"Auh!" Sammy yelped as he was pulled out of his thoughts. The front of his chair came back down with a thud that echoed through the empty classroom. Miss Finley was standing before him with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize. I'll go-"

"I'm going to hope that the 'Pluto' on your paper is your choice as an essay topic. Are you planning to write about the planet or the god?"

Sammy's heart almost stopped.

"God? There's a god named Pluto?"

"Yep. He'd Greek or Roman or something like that. God of the dead."

A god of death?

White as death. Eyes like Hitler. Felt frozen. Ran like she'd seen the reaper himself. Cursed jewels.

"Thank you, Miss Finley, you're the best!" Sammy yelped as he grabbed his books and ran from the classroom as fast as his legs could carry him.

For the first time in his life, Sammy was in a desperate hurry to reach the library.

...

The St. Agnes' Academy For Colored Children and Indians had to have the worst library in the world. It was _slightly_ larger than the average closet and all of the books were beat up hand-me-downs with pages falling out and bindings so dry and beat up you could see the glue flaking off every time you picked one up.

Sammy groaned as he tried to track down lost pages from the one and only mythology book in a box labeled "Homeless Pages." Of course someone had scribbled a letter 'p' over the 'm' so it now said "Hopeless Pages."

Come to think of it, Sammy remembered that _he_ had been the one who changed the title to the Hopeless Box. Sixth grade. Good times.

Hopeless was right though. This was utterly ridiculous. Sammy had looked over at least thirty pages so far. He hadn't even made a dent in the Hopeless Box, and he'd seen no sign of Pluto or any other planet-god-people in the pages he had searched.

He glared at the Greek Mythology book. It shouldn't even count as a book. It was a cover with a page or two desperately clinging to the rotten glue of its binding.

Sammy sighed and walked over to the librarian's desk. He hated talking to Ms. Rosewood. She was a nasty old woman who always smelled of stale cigarettes and treated everyone with darker skin than hers like cockroaches.

"Ma'am, are there any other books about Greek or Roman mythology?"

Ms. Rosewood gave Sammy a glare that could have melted lead. "Do I look like the book fairy to you?"

_No, you look like a bitter old mulatto who tried to pass by using a boatload of bleach so now your skin looks like you borrowed it from a cadaver._

"No, ma'am. But I was hoping you might have some idea where I could find a book about Greek myths that actually includes pages. They come in handy you know, make for good places to put words."

Whoops, that may have come out wrong. Ms. Rosewood never liked his attempts at humor.

"Don't you take that tone with me boy!" she shouted. "Filthy pachucos. Get out of this library! Go back to Mexico you little-"

Sammy ran out the door. Once Ms. Rosewood started her insults, there was no stopping her. This was why he hated going to the library. As soon as he was a few hallways down he made a rude gesture in the direction he had come from and marched away. Then he made a funny face, just to prove to the universe that nothing anyone said to him would get to him, no matter how mean.

Maybe this whole plan was stupid. Greek and Roman gods didn't actually exist. Hazel's father must just be named after the god Pluto. Or maybe he was named after Mickey Mouse's dog. Maybe Pluto wasn't even his real name.

But still... the way this Pluto man had frightened 'ol Mr. Delmont made Sammy wonder. That old guy wasn't easily frightened. But he still trembled at the memory Pluto two weeks later. If this man had had such an affect on Mr. Delmont...

Sammy sighed and pulled the leather bag out of the pocket of his battered suit. He could feel the supposedly cursed gemstones rubbing against each other along with the crinkle of his dollar bill.

Hazel had believed in the curse. No matter how much Sammy tried to convince her it was all just silly coincidence, she never believed him. She felt guilt over these gems as though she _had_ gone around a killed all the people her bullies claimed were her fault.

Jewels that bring death.

Curse or no curse, there was something very strange about the way these valuables would just appear wherever Hazel happened to be. Not to mention the way every living creature except for horses seemed scared of poor Hazel.

Sammy put the bag of jewels back in his pocket and began his trek toward the White Oaks Riding Club. There was a library right down the street he could check.

He knew it was a stupid idea, but what could it hurt to read up a little about this Pluto-god-guy?

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**Once again, any and all reviews are greatly appreciated. This chapter wasn't quite as much fun as the last one, I know, but I assure you that the next chapter (Bookforts, Demigods, and Arson!) will make up for it. ;)**

**Also, for those of you raising an eyebrow at the idea of lightening skin with bleach, I did not make that up. It actually is a somewhat common practice in some parts of the world, like tanning booths in the USA. And like tanning booths, it is absolutely horrible for your skin and your health.**


	3. Bookforts, Insanity, and Arson

**Author's N****ote: Oh my goodness. Thank you _so much_ to everyone who reviewed, and special thanks to EllOhVeEe1997, breath1ess, and BehindTheScenes0211. Your reviews completely blew me away. I'm incredibly flattered and grateful. I really am beyond words to describe how much your kind words mean to me. I'm generally very shy to share any of my writing, so I can't tell you how encouraging it is to hear that you are enjoying this story so much. I put a lot of effort into research and editing, and I'm so glad to hear it's paying off. Thank you, and everyone who has reviewed. You keep me inspired.**

**Now, I just said that I'm shy to share my writing. Rick Riordan is a New York Times Bestselling Author who has published dozens of books. Ergo, I am not Rick Riordan, and his characters don't belong to me.**

**With the disclaimer out of the way, here's a big chunk of a chapter. ;)**

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**Chapter 3: Bookforts, Insanity, and Arson**

Sammy liked this library. For one thing, the books actually had all their pages, and for another, it didn't smell like something had died in the walls.

On the downside, it was supposed to be a whites only library, so Sammy had to sneak in the side door and hide behind the shelves whenever anybody passed by. Fortunately the library wasn't very busy in the middle of a Friday afternoon.

Sammy knew that he was taking a pretty big risk by coming here. But he was on good terms with the head librarian, Mr. Desmarais, who frequented White Oaks. Mr. Desmarias had even told Sammy that if he needed a book for a school topic, he would let him borrow it.

Of course, Sammy was pretty sure Mr. Desmarias hadn't meant he could actually come _into_ the library. But when Sammy had peaked in the windows he hadn't been able to find Mr. Desmarias to ask for the books, and he hated to come all this way for nothing.

Still, Sammy wasn't taking any chances he could avoid. He scooped up every thick book he could find and carried them to a table in the far corner by the side door. He stacked them up, forming a curved wall of books three feet high that could hide him while he read. Once he was done, he took every book about Ancient Greece, Ancient Rome, Ancient Myths, or any related subject (as well as an atlas or two) and dumped them behind his fort.

A half hour later he had calculated the distance from New Orleans to Alaska, read every reference to Pluto or his alter ego Hades in the books, and discovered that the Greek/Roman gods favored very unusual forms of punishment. He particularly liked King Midas' donkey ears. There were a few kids at school he'd love to give that treatment.

But most importantly, he'd found that Pluto/Hades wasn't just the god of the underworld.

He was also the god of wealth. Specifically all wealth that came from the earth.

Like jewels and gold.

Sammy squeezed the bag in his pocket. Hazel's cursed treasures suddenly made a whole lot more sense.

"There they are!"

Sammy yelped and jerked away so fast he unbalanced his chair and fell in a heap at the feet of a very startled white boy.

He was in the soup now. He had to get out of here before the boy sounded the alarm and someone recognized him as a groom from White Oaks Riding Club.

"Why were you reading all those mythology books?" the boy asked, kneeling down to stare at Sammy with sharp grey eyes. "I was looking everywhere for those. Are you one too?"

"One what?" Sammy asked. He was still ready to bolt, but, oddly, the kid didn't seem he was about to turn him in.

"A demigod," the kid squeaked. "My father just told me that I'm one, and that's why I can see monsters, and I have to go up to New York to find Camp Half-Blood, and I don't have the slightest idea how to use this stupid short sword."

He held out a large steak knife.

Sammy was horrified. This nine year old boy seemed to have lost his mind, and he was holding a very sharp knife less than a foot from Sammy's face.

Time to play along and hope the kid didn't slice him into little pieces.

"Sure. Yeah, I'm a demigod too. I'm as demigod as they come!" Sammy sat up and flexed his muscles, trying to imitate the pose of one of the Greek statues he'd seen on the cover of a myth book.

"Oh thank goodness," the crazy kid gasped. "I'm a son of Athena. It seems like I should be smarted than this, shouldn't it? But I don't have a clue what I'm doing. Have you fought any monsters before? Can you help me?"

"Of _course_," Sammy offered. "Can I see that knife for a minute?"

"Sure."

The kid thrust the blade at Sammy hilt first, but his hands were so sweaty it slipped out of his grip.

Sammy screamed as the knife plummeted blade first toward his thigh...

...and then passed right through his leg like a ghost.

For a moment Sammy stared at his leg and the fallen knife, unable to believe what he had just seen.

"What's going on back there?" A furious sounding librarian barked. He definitely wasn't Mr. Desmarias and he sounded like he was marching straight toward them.

Oh no.

The crazy blond boy reacted first. He grabbed Sammy under the arms and hauled him up so his face was hidden by the wall of books on the table.

"I'm sorry sir!" The kid called. "I accidentally dropped a book on my friend's toe. It was a big one. But he's fine, we're fine, the book's fine, everything's fine!"

The kid smiled like his life depended on it. Sammy couldn't see the librarian, but he sent up a prayer to every deity that might be for the him to just walk away.

Finally the librarian snorted. "Be careful with those books."

"Yes, sir."

One more terrifying moment, and the librarian marched away, muttering something about boys and how much trouble they caused.

Sammy breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thank you," he said, looking at the kid with new eyes.

"You're welcome. You must be pretty desperate for information to come here. Are you a child of Athena too?"

Sammy picked up the knife. Now that he was really looking at it, it didn't look quite so normal. It seemed bronze, and too long for a knife. He could touch the leather bound handle, but the blade passed straight through his fingers. He didn't feel anything, as though it wasn't actually there. In an odd way, it seemed to flicker and fuzz in his vision, like a movie projector that wasn't focused right.

Since the kid's strange weapon apparently couldn't hurt him, he decided to take the truthful approach.

"I'm not a demigod. I just thought it seemed like a good idea to agree with you when you were holding me at knifepoint."

"Oh. Sorry. I didn't mean to."

Sammy rolled his eyes. This kids _was_ crazy, but _probably_ not insane.

"So let me get this straight," Sammy said. "You're a demigod."

The kid nodded.

"And a demigod is..."

"The child of a mortal and a Greek god. My mother is Athena. My father is a chemist."

Sammy nodded. "And what's Camp Half-Blood?"

"It's the only safe place for a demigod. It's up in New York, and I have to get there, because a monster has my scent and-"

"Hold up a second. What sort of monster?"

Sammy's question was answered by a horrendous crash from the front of the library. He and the strange kid ran toward it, Sammy a few paces behind so he could dodge out of sight into the bookshelves.

However that wasn't necessary. The librarian was distracted by the fierce, invading...

Goat.

A big goat, but it was still just a goat.

"Kid, that's a goat."

"No it isn't!" the kid wailed. "Can't you see its other heads?"

Sammy blinked. For a short moment, he thought he might see something. The goat's head shifted, so it looked more like a lion, and it's tail looked like a snake sticking out of its rear, the snake's head at the tip of the tail.

But that was impossible.

His vision shifted again, and all he could see was the goat.

Sammy frowned, taking a step closer. The librarian was trying to chase the goat back out the door. The goat turned toward him and opened its mouth. The librarian suddenly fell flat on his face. He didn't move.

"It's a monster!" the grey-eyed kid screamed.

The goat turned toward them, glaring at the crazy kid with murder in its red, slitted eyes, and for a moment Sammy could see the monstrous lion head again.

"Run!" he and the kid shouted in unison. They bolted for the side door, the thumping hoofbeats of the not-a-normal-goat following them.

Sammy grabbed the kid's hand and pulled him along, his other hand gripping the leather handle of the not-a-normal-knife.

He had just read about a bunch of monsters. What was this one?

"It's a chimachuka!"

"What?" The kid yelped.

"A chimerchacha or a chimney or something."

"A what?"

The creature roared and a wall of heat hit their backs. Sammy glanced back in time to see some of the grass catch fire.

"It breaths fire!" Sammy yelped.

"And poisonous gas!" the kid told him. "It knocks people unconscious. It takes hours for them to wake up, and they have a splitting headache afterward."

"Great," Sammy grumbled. "We have a few options for our demise. Be burned to a crisp or knocked out and eaten." He wracked his brain to remember the myths he had just read.

"Chimera! That's what it's called! Beller-phone killed it."

"How?"

"A lead ball and a flying horse..."

Sammy realized his feet had automatically carried him to White Oaks Riding Club. Well, that could work. They might not have magical horses here, but Sammy still felt more confident about his chances of outrunning the firebreathing goat on horseback than he did on foot.

"Sammy, what are you doing?" Boss Mason called as they ran by the gatehouse.

Sammy had no clue how to explain this, so he pretended he hadn't heard as he pulled the crazy kid into the stable.

Another groom jumped as they entered. Sammy raised his hand and motioned toward the door.

"Get out of here!" he ordered.

The groom's eyes were wide as saucers as he ran out of the stable, and too late Sammy realized he'd motioned with the hand that was still holding Crazy Kid's knife.

Whoops.

No time to worry about that now though. Sammy pulled open the nearest stall, which happened to contain the bay Hazel liked to ride. The stallion reared. Not out of fear. Out of his seeming eternal desire to annoy Sammy.

"I don't have time for this, there's a chimera chasing us so you better behave!"

Oddly, the bay seemed to settle down, as if it sensed the dangerous situation they were in.

Sammy clipped reins onto the bay's halter and leapt on his back. The stallion snorted, but didn't try to throw Sammy like he usually did. Honestly, Hazel was the _only_ one this bay liked.

"Kid, get up here!"

"But I don't know how to ride a horse!"

"_Get on the damn horse!_" Sammy screamed. He could hear the roar of the chimera approaching and he was terrified to think what would happen if they were cornered in this stall.

Crazy Kid jumped and tried to pull himself onto the bay, but he obviously had no experience with horses. Sammy reached around, simultaneously trying to keep the bay from bucking and hoist Crazy Kid up by the collar.

By the time Crazy Kid had settled himself behind Sammy, it was too late.

The chimera-goat leapt through the doorway, its muscles tensed, and its eyes searching the stable for its prey.

Sammy gave the bay a kick and they bolted forward, Sammy forcing them into a sharp turn toward the door. They passed by the chimera before it could react and flew out into the bitter January sunlight.

But from behind them came the horrible crackle of fire on wood and the scream of terrified horses.

"No!" Sammy yelled, turning the bay in time to see the chimera-goat emerge from the burning stable.

"Kid, you keep that thing distracted!" Sammy shouted and he leapt off the bay.

"What?"

"Just don't fall off the horse!"

Sammy wasn't sure this plan would work, but sure enough the chimera had no interest in him. It followed Crazy Kid and the bay like a dog on a scent.

Sammy raced back into the stable. The roof beams were on fire. The entire roof would collapse once the fire ate through them.

He began yanking open stall doors, grabbing the horses by their harnesses and giving them sharp slaps the the hindquarters to get them moving out. Once the first horses bolted outside, most of the others followed, desperate for the safety of the herd. A few reared and tried to run back to their stalls, one place where they had always been safe.

"Get out of here you mangy donkeys!" Sammy shouted, waving his arms around like a madman, Crazy Kid's knife still gleaming in his left hand. The spooked animals turned tail and fled.

"Augh!" Sammy yowled as a burning clump of wood fell from the roof and exploded in a shower of sparks less than a foot away from him.

It was Sammy's turn to bolt. He raced out, pulling the stables doors shut so the horses couldn't get back in.

"HEELLPP!"

Crazy Kid was desperately clinging to the bay's neck, making no attempt to steer as the bay zigzaged away from the chimera. Sammy ran toward them. To its eternal credit, the bay ran straight toward him and slowed, giving Sammy the chance he needed to jump back on.

"Sammy!"

Boss Mason was staring at the burning stable and the horses running wild with fear. He looked sick with horror as he turned his gaze back toward the boy.

"How could you?"

In that moment Sammy knew that his life as he knew it was over. No one would ever believe him when he said that a goat or a Greek monster had burned down the stable. Boss Mason had seen him run in, carrying a knife, probably looking half mad from terror.

Sammy Valdez was now an arsonist and a horse thief.

"I didn't!" Sammy shouted back, knowing Boss Mason wouldn't believe him.

"Chimera!" Crazy Kid screamed as he kicked the bay far harder than he should have.

Sammy stifled a yelp as the bay bolted. It was all he could do to hang on. He was riding a spooked horse bareback, at a full run downhill. Crazy Kid wasn't holding the reins, and Sammy had to reach around him to hold onto the bay's mane so he wouldn't fall off.

"How long has this thing been chasing you?"

"Most of the day," Crazy Kid answered. "That's why I wanted to read those myth books, I wanted to learn how to kill it!"

"If Bell-phone killed it back in Ancient Greece, shouldn't it be dead now?"

"I don't know! Maybe this one is the first one's brother or something!"

"How'd it get over here anyway? There's a whole ocean in the way!"

"Who knows? And what are the odds of it showing up in New Orleans? What are the odds of it finding me the day I find out I'm a demigod? Apparently I have the worst luck on the face of the planet."

"No you don't," Sammy mumbled, an idea beginning to form in his mind. He imagined a light bulb popping up over his head as a madman grin split his face. He grabbed the reins and yanked the bay down a side street toward the docks.

"What are you doing?"

"You'll see! Is that thing still behind us?"

Crazy Kid glanced back. "Yep. It's a little ways back, but it's still there."

"Perfect," Sammy grumbled as he spurred the bay to run even faster. He needed time once they reached the docks.

They took mostly back alleys and side streets to avoid pedestrians and cars, but they still nearly got run down by cars more than once.

By the time they reached the wharf, the chimera-goat (it still looked like a goat to Sammy, even though he knew it was anything but) had fallen behind. That was good.

Sammy steered them toward a pair of fishing boats that were hauling up their catches.

"Hey, get out of-"

The man never got to finish as Sammy led the bay right onto the boat, leaned over, and skewered a fish on Crazy Kid's knife. He spurred the horse and they charged back down the gangplank.

"Thief!"

Great. Another crime to add to his record for the past fifteen minutes.

"What are you doing?" Crazy Kid asked.

"Trying to buy us better odds. Keep the horse running straight for a minute, would you?" Sammy demanded as he pulled the fish off the knife. He thrust the knife, hilt first at the boy. "And hold this."

"Oookay," the kid whimpered.

Sammy wedged the fish under one arm and yanked a handkerchief out of his shirt pocket. He then brought out the leather bag and opened it. Carefully he shook one gem onto the handkerchief. It was a glittering, pale blue jewel the size of a peanut. It was probably worth more money than Sammy had ever seen in his life.

He shoved it down the throat of the dead fish.

Behind him he heard the roar of the chimera-goat.

"Hazel," he muttered, "I never thought I'd say this, but I kinda hope you're right about that curse."

"My name isn't Hazel," the Crazy Kid told him. "And what curse?"

"I was talking to myself, and let me tell you that is the most sane thing I've done in the past hour."

"I know the feeling," the kid mumbled, glancing behind them. "It's gaining on us."

"Good. Let it."

"You're crazy," the kid muttered.

"I've been thinking the same thing about you," Sammy retorted.

Crazy Kid didn't have an argument for that.

Sammy twisted around so he could see the chimera. It still looked like a goat to him. An evil, red eyed, oversized goat, but still just a goat. People they passed were laughing at their strange group, not seeing any sort of danger in the situation. The longer Sammy stared at the goat, willing himself to see the other head, the blurrier it became, as though something were clouding his vision.

Finally he saw it. The lion head glared at him and let out another furious roar.

"Fetch boy!" Sammy called, heaving the dead fish with all his might (which sadly wasn't that much as he would like).

Fortunately though, he managed to send the fish straight into the lion's forehead. This seemed to startle the beast, which skidded to a stop, the dead fish flopping to the ground with a wet splat.

The lion's eyes lit up like a dog that had been tossed a bone.

The snake head hissed in protest, but the lion didn't waste much time. Two quick bites, and it had swallowed the entire fish.

Immediately, it sprang back up and resumed the chase.

"Great job, you bought us three seconds," Crazy Kid snapped.

"Shut your claptrap, ye of little faith," Sammy retorted. "It's time to go tempt fate."

And with that he yanked the bay's reins and pulled him toward a row of factories. He spotted an open loading dock door and charged straight through, startling the workers who were loading car (or maybe tank) parts into trucks.

"Sorry!" Sammy called, knowing full well he was about to cause this factory a whole lot more trouble than that.

The chimera-goat followed them as they rode through the factory, leaping over conveyer belts, dodging under catwalks, and sending workers scattering. They were shouting at him in every language in New Orleans.

"Sorry!" Sammy shouted. "Lo siento! Desolé! Sorry! Lo siento! Desolé!"

The chimera-goat roared in outrage as it landed on a conveyer belt and toppled over. It righted itself and leapt off. Sammy led the bay deeper into the factory, where heavy machine parts flew and chugged and belched soot and steam all around them.

"You're going to get us killed!" Crazy Kid screamed.

"Maybe, but I like my odds better with the machines than with the chimera!"

Sammy urged the bay stallion into a leap over a nearby conveyer belt, the chimera behind them.

And then the chimera hit a patch of bad luck.

It's hooves slipped and it went rolling down toward some sort of shaping and crusher machine. It bleated in alarm as the machine trapped it, letting out a pneumatic screech at the interference.

Sammy yanked the bay to a halt. He was amazed that the tons of steel hadn't crushed the monster.

"Kid, why isn't that thing dead yet?"

"Uh... most metals don't hurt monsters. Only celestial bronze..."

Both boys looked at the knife. Then up at each other. They nodded.

Crazy Kid pulled his hand back and then let the knife fly. For a moment, Sammy thought it looked more like a small sword than a knife.

The next moment it sank into the chimera, which exploded into dust.

Sammy and the kid both sat there for a moment, entirely dumbfounded. On the other hand the bay seemed entirely unfazed, trotting over and sniffing around the debris.

"That... was disgusting," Sammy commented, looking down at the monster dust.

"Yep," the kid agreed, sliding off and retrieving his sword before it could be crushed. He noticed something in the mounds of chimera dust and pulled it out. It was a lion's tooth.

"Why did it leave this behind?"

"Spoils of war?" Sammy guessed, thinking about how the heroes in the books he'd just read had a habit of hacking off and keeping bits of monsters they had killed.

"You want it?"

Sammy shook his head. "Thanks, but no thank you. I've got enough cursed baubles as it is."

The kid shrugged and stuck the tooth in his jacket pocket.

_"**Hey, you kids!** What are you think you're doing!"_

"Time to get out of here!" Sammy decided. "Up! Up!"

The grey-eyed kid didn't need to be told twice. He jumped up onto the bay's back, once again behind Sammy, which the older boy was grateful for, since it gave him easier access to the reins.

The bay snorted and stomped its hooves. Sammy had the uneasy feeling that it had decided that it had behaved well for long enough today, and it was done. Sure enough, the moment Crazy Kid was back in place, the bay took off, bolting back off through the doorway and onto the streets faster than any hose should be able to run.

"Whoa! Slow dow!" Sammy yelped, pulling the reins back.

But the bay yanked its head forward with such strength that the reins actually _snapped_, leaving Sammy holding a useless length of leather.

Sammy abandoned all pretense of steering and wrapped his arms around the bay's neck as it accelerated. The stallion ran faster and faster. Sammy gasped as Crazy Kid's arms tightened around his chest, squeezing all the air out of him.

Somehow they were still speeding up. The world blurred. Sammy's ears popped as a sound like an explosion or an airplane taking off surrounded them.

Sammy closed his eyes and prayed for salvation.

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**Yes, Sammy can be very reckless. Sneaking into any whites only building at this time was a very, very bad move. But canonically he's already shown a perfect willingness to bend white's only rules (sneaking Hazel into the riding club), and as Leo he's proved his recklessness numerous times (running away six times, his initial face off with Festus (who could easily have pounded him into a smear on the forest floor, fireproof or not), etc.).**

**Also, I had fun figuring out how to write from the perspective of a mortal who can't naturally see through the Mist. I figured that anyone could catch a little glimpse through the Mist if it was pointed out to them. Paul Blofis managed to fight monsters in The Last Olympian, though he wasn't 100% sure what he was fighting, so I figured some sort of unreliable vision was possible. After all, Paul wouldn't have stabbed something he thought was a normal human, so he must have seen _something_.**

**And apparently the chimera lost confidence after this, since he's hanging out with his mommy by the time Percy runs into him. ;)**

**As always, please leave reviews if you are enjoying. They make me happy, _and_ make me write and post faster. ****Everybody wins! XD**


	4. No Turning Back

**Author's Note: As always, a million thanks to everyone who reviewed. You continue to blow me away. It really does make my day and keep me inspired to write.**

**I apologize for the delay on this chapter and the next one. My Mom's birthday is today, and I fell behind on this story because I was writing a story for her as a present. I like to have each chapter for a couple days before I post it, so that I can reread, edit, and make sure it flows well with the next chapters.**

**As always, Rick Riordan owns his characters. I am not Rick Riordan. Therefore, I do not own his characters.**

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**Chapter 4: No Turning Back**

Sammy didn't open his eyes even after the bay finally stopped, which was a big mistake. The horse seemed to remember how much fun it was to make life difficult for poor innocent grooms and promptly bucked Sammy and the grey-eyed boy off his back.

Sammy hit the ground with the thump and his eyes flew open.

They were lying in a grassy field that was definitely not in New Orleans. The sky had gone from sunny to cloudy, and the temperature had dropped about ten degrees.

"Ow," Crazy Kid groaned, hauling himself up.

Sammy closed his eyes. He didn't want to see that kid, or the wild bay, or this strange field. If _they_ were real, then that meant everything that had just happened was real. And not just the part about the Greek gods and monsters, which was a huge shock, even though he'd had some suspicions about Hazel's father.

According to what everyone else believed, Sammy had burned the whites-only stable he had worked at, loosed all the horses, stolen one, stolen a good sized fish, and caused chaos at a factory that might well have been building tanks for the war effort.

If Sammy went back, he would be lynched the second he set foot in New Orleans.

He could never go home.

He hadn't even gotten to say goodbye to his family. He hadn't been able to grab any supplies. All he had were the clothes on his back, six cursed gemstones, one cursed gold nugget, a dollar and fifty cents, a gum wrapper, a pencil, a kid with questionable sanity, a really strange knife, and a stolen horse.

"Hey! Get back here! Stop!"

Sammy sat up in time to see the bay disappear into the horizon.

And there goes the horse.

Sammy really wanted to just sleep and wake up to find this all was nothing more than a strange dream.

"The horse ran away," Crazy Kid informed him.

"So I noticed," Sammy grumbled numbly. "He has a habit of doing that. You'd think he doesn't like me or something."

The grey eyed kid knelt down next to Sammy.

"Thanks for helping me. You probably saved my life."

"Just call me Hercules," Sammy quipped, flicking his hair out of his eyes, trying to push away the sadness welling inside him.

"Is that really your name?"

Sammy was very, very tempted to say 'yes,' but then he figured it would draw unwanted attention if this kid started calling for 'Hercules' in the middle of a busy sidewalk.

"I'm afraid not, my dad wasn't that creative. I'm Samuel Leonardo Valdez, but everyone just calls me Sammy."

Sammy extended his hand, and the Crazy Kid shook it.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Albert Quincy Grant. My Dad calls me Albert Quincy."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Al. For the most part."

"Yeah, sorry about the near-death experiences and monster and pointing a sword at your nose."

Sammy shrugged. "It's no problem. I'm best friends with Death's daughter. I eat near-death experiences for breakfast."

Albert Crazy Kid laughed, but Sammy felt his gut wrench.

_Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel._

Even if Queen Marie turned around and came back to New Orleans, Sammy would never see Hazel again. He still held out a _little_ hope that she would turn back. He'd learned that Alaska wasn't actually part of Russia anymore, but it still wasn't even a proper American state. It was just a territory. It was the closest you could get to Japan on American soil other than Hawaii. The Japs had bombed Pearl Harbor less than a month ago. West was the last direction Hazel and her mother should be traveling. Surely Queen Marie would see sense and turn back, for her _own_ safety even if she was beyond caring about Hazel's.

But in his gut, he doubted that they were coming back. Two weeks without a word or a sign. They were gone. And now Sammy was stranded too. He didn't know how he was going to help himself, much less Hazel...

Sammy stared at Albert.

"What exactly is Camp Half-Blood?" he demanded.

"My father says it's the only safe place for demigods. Once we reach a certain age, monsters start to find us, and we all have to go up there to train."

"What kind of training? How many are there?"

"Training to fight monsters!" The Crazy Kid's eyes lit up. "To be heroes! I don't know how many there are, but my father says there are lots of us."

Sammy's face split into a wide grin.

A camp full of trained, half-god heroes. If they were heroes like in the old myths, he was certain he could convince them to rescue Hazel. She was a demigod, one of their own, they would be sure to help.

An army of _demigods_.

They could find Hazel, and maybe they would let Sammy stay and train with them until he was old enough to join the Air Corps! If he could reach Camp Half-Blood, he might be able to put his future back together again.

"I'm going there with you!" Sammy declared, leaping to his feet. His fingers were twitching again; he was ready to get started.

"Are you sure?"

"I can't go home after that fiasco, and I wasn't joking about being best friends with Death's daughter. More than best friends actually; with luck, I'm going to marry her someday. But I need to track her down first."

Crazy Kid snorted. "She ran away from you? You might want to rethink the engagement."

Sammy gave him a light cuff on the ear.

"She didn't run away from me. Her mom lost her mind and moved to Alaska. Honestly, I think her mother has gone insane, and she's turned against Hazel. The girl I love is in danger, and she's a daughter of Pluto, so your demigod buddies are going to help me rescue her once we get to this Camp Half-Blood place, understood?"

"Well, alright, that's fine with me. But... how are we going to get there?"

Sammy put his hands on his hips and glanced around the field. There was nothing manmade visible as far as the eye could see.

"I have no clue, but I'd say we better figure out where 'here' is first." Sammy checked for the bright patch in the clouds that hinted at the location of the sun. He turned them toward the north-east. "Let's go this way!"

"Why? Do you see something?"

"Nope. But unless you want to turn into a frozen statue in this stupid field, we have to go some way or another. We'll run across a town eventually, and we can ask for directions. Do you have any green? I'm near broke." Not counting the cursed gems. Between learning about Pluto and trapping the chimera, Sammy was now convinced that the jewels really were cursed, and he really didn't want to have to sell them to some innocent, unsuspecting stranger.

"Yeah. My father gave me money."

"Perfect!" Sammy exclaimed, throwing an arm around Albert's shoulders. "Then let's get started!"

"Get what started?"

"Our grand adventure, icicle brain!" Sammy teased, pulling Albert into a jog beside him as the snow began to fall.

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**As always, reviews are greatly appreciated and keep me motivated to write faster. **

**PS: Time2Wake, this is an update, so am I your BIF now? :P**


	5. Snow, Pigs, and Trouble

**Author's Note: First and foremost, I apologize for how long it took me to get this chapter up. It was not cooperative, so I had to rewrite sections numerous times. Please bear with me. This section of the story isn't my favorite, but it won't last too much longer. Another couple chapters and we'll be into more interesting territory. ****But I wanted to have Sammy get pretty involved in the world of Greek/Roman gods, demigods, and monsters.****The main point of it is so Sammy can see the Greek/Roman underworld clearly, and thus make his choice for rebirth. It mentions in The Lightning Thief that mortals who believe in other religions see the underworld differently, so I wasn't sure if they would be able to be reborn if they believed in a religion without reincarnation (and it would be pretty odd to make Sammy's family Buddhist in the '40s).**

**Second, but no less important, thank you so very much to everyone who has reviewed. As I keep saying, it makes my day to see your responses. After all, I am writing this for you. I have the whole story planned in my head, so I don't gain anything from writing it other than being able to share it (and the impressive about of early 1940s trivia knowledge I am amassing along the way). So it really means the world to me to hear your responses.**

**I'm sorry that the last chapter was a bit slow for you, puretorcherismynamecaitlyn, but I felt Sammy needed a little time to process what has just happened to him and decide what his plan from here should be. After all, he just had a very, _very_ strange afternoon, and as a result he can't go back home again. That's a lot to deal with.**

**And you certainly do see my logic for Samuel _Leonardo_ Valdez, Time2Wake. I figured it couldn't hurt, and it could plant the idea for the name in Esperenza's mind. My theory is that Leonardo da Vince was what Riordan was referencing with Leo's name. The lion symbolism is nice, but a brilliant inventor famous for his drawings of flying machines? It seems too perfect a match to be pure coincedence. ;)**

**On that note, I am not Rick Riordan. I do not own his brain, the Percy Jackson/Heroes of Olympus series, or his characters, as much as I would like to. I just play with his toys.**

**So I present for your reading enjoyment, my longest (for good or bad) chapter yet:**

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**Chapter 5: Snow, Pigs, and Trouble**

Sammy was now utterly convinced that snow was an evil entity, hellbent on torturing him and Albert.

The storm had picked up suddenly, and the flakes were now so large and falling so heavily, Sammy couldn't see the tips of his fingers if he extended his arm. The wind shifted every seven seconds or so, buffeting them from every direction. Sammy could barely open his eyes, and his entire body felt numb.

"We're going to die out here!" The Crazy Kid wailed.

"No we aren't!" Sammy snapped. "I didn't survive a fight with a firebreathing, poison belching chimera-goat just to die from a bunch of _**stupid**__ snow!_"

The winds picked up with fresh energy, smacking Sammy in the face as though it had personally taken offense at his insult.

"Yeah, you heard me!" Sammy shouted. "Snow is-"

"Sammy, is there a god of snow?"

Sammy frowned, shifting to try to close his suitcoat as tightly as possible, and possibly elbowing Crazy Kid in the ribs since they had linked arms to keep from loosing track of each other.

"Not that I know of. What, do you think I'm making him angry?"

A fresh wind came from straight above and sent a flurry of snowflakes down on the collar of his shirt.

"Gah!" Sammy yelped.

"Yes, I _do_ think you're upsetting the snow gods," Albert moaned. "So could you please stop it before my toes fall off?"

The wind rippled, and Albert suddenly lurched to a stop.

"What are you doing?" Sammy groaned.

"Didn't you hear that?"

"No, I think my ears fell off a mile back. What did you hear?"

"A woman laughing," the boy muttered, looking around.

The snow seemed to ease off for a moment, and Albert gasped.

"What now?"

The Crazy Kid pointed into the snow. "Don't you see her?"

"No. But I couldn't see the chimera's other heads until you pointed them out either..."

The boys looked at each other.

Laughter rippled through the snow, cold and beautiful.

Simultaneously, both boys let out terrified yells, turned tail, and fled at top speed in the opposite direction, nevermind the fact that they couldn't see.

Sammy's heart pounded in his ears. He was in no state to fight another monster. He was half frozen, half blind, and completely lacking in dead fish.

Before he could decided what to do, his foot hit a bump, and he toppled headfirst toward the ground. He threw out his hands to catch his fall, and pain shot through his wrists as they collided with something hard, concrete or blacktop, hidden under the snow.

Breifly he heard Albert scream behind him, but the boy's voice was drowned out by the wail of a car horn and the squeal of breaks.

On blessed instinct, Sammy pushed himself up and backward onto the side of the road a moment before a ancient looking car screeched straight through the spot where Sammy's head had been only a moment before.

Sammy scrabbled backward and bumped into Albert, who was also lying on the ground, his breath still coming in ragged gasps.

"Are you alright?" Albert whimpered.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Sammy gasped, even though his heart was running faster than a train. "Though I'm starting to loose track of how many times I've almost died today."

"Holy smokes!" A young white man exclaimed as he stepped out the auto that had almost liberated Sammy's head. "Are you hurt? I didn't see you coming in this storm!"

"I'm fine!" Sammy called, brushing snow out of his hair. "Isn't it a lovely day for a stroll?"

The man looked at him like he was crazy. Sammy couldn't blame him. He supposed this man didn't usually have to worry about maniacs jumping onto the road when he was driving.

The man looked him and Albert over.

"Do you boys live around here?"

Sammy shook his head.

The man nodded. "Do you need a place to stay?"

Sammy blinked in surprise.

"Yes, but..."

"Well my family's house is always open. You two are welcome to stay."

"Thank you!" Albert gasped.

Sammy stood and brushed snow off his pants. "I am colored sir," he told the man.

It would seem Sammy was _very_ thoroughly coated with snow, because the man's eyebrows shot up. After a moment though, he shrugged.

"We've helped and been helped by colored men before. Hop on in if you're going to come."

Sammy beamed and started toward the car. "Thank you sir!"

"Don't mention it."

Sammy wondered how literally he meant that.

"Augh!"

Sammy turned to see Albert had fallen again. When the boy looked up his grey eyes were filled with pain.

"I hurt my ankle. I can't walk."

Sammy guessed it was just a sprain and the kid was being overdramatic, but he knelt down beside him an pulled up the hem of his pants. The ankle looked mostly normal, maybe a little swollen. Sammy pressed his numb fingers to it and Albert winced.

"How is he?" the man asked, kneeling down next to Sammy.

"It doesn't look too bad. He'll be alright."

Albert looked like he was trying to hold back tears. "It really hurts."

"Don't worry, boy, we'll get you patched up." The wind picked up again and the man shivered. "Holy Goodness, this is why I don't like January. We need to get going before the streets are completely impassable."

Sammy nodded and pulled Albert up, holding him so he wouldn't have to put weight on his bad ankle. With the kind man's help, they managed to get Albert into the back seat of the auto. Sammy slipped in beside him and shut the door.

"Sir, where are we?" Albert asked.

"A little outside Hillsville. And there's no need to call me sir. My name's Max."

Now that Sammy was settled inside the car, he noticed that this Max was even younger than he had first guessed. He was probably somewhere around eighteen, and with a narrow face and a long chin.

"Um, where is Hillsville?"

"Southwest Virginia, a little ways north of the North Carolina border. You two really are lost aren't you?"

"Very, very lost," Sammy muttered, his mind swirling wildly as the snowstorm. That bay was _magical_. That crazy stallion had been sitting around at White Oaks all this time, and it was capable of carrying them from Louisiana to Virginia in less than an hour?

And the darn thing had run off! Sammy could kick himself for letting it get away. If it were still here, Sammy and Albert could get to Camp Half-Blood in no time. Then up to Alaska to find Hazel.

Sammy swore that the next time he saw that horse he would give it a piece of his mind.

Max fussed with the brake and gear stick and revved the engine, and after a couple tries it finally gave a lovely roar that Sammy assumed meant that it was working.

He'd never driven a car, and he'd only ridden in them once or twice, since his family didn't own one. Usually he liked the novelty, but with the snowstorm going it felt like they were about to spin out of control at any moment. Sammy decided to keep his mouth shut so he wouldn't distract Max from the road, but that was not an easy task for him.

He tried to distract himself by examining his poor hands. His fingers were pink and numb, and his palm was bashed up from catching his fall. He brushed off his palms, but there really wasn't anything he could do for them.

He was bursting to say something. Anything. All he needed was something to keep his mind off the vicious howling wind and the rapidly lengthening list of people and places he loved and might never see again.

He remembered his mother baking beignets so coated with powdered sugar they made him sneeze. His father flopping down on the couch after a long day at the factory and Sammy telling him jokes to try to tease a smile from his tired face. His older brothers shoving him around as they vied for the plastic beads from the Carnival parades. Little Tommy, his baby brother, cooing and drooling all over Sammy's homework.

What was he going to do without them?

"Thank you for taking us in, sir," Sammy said, unable to take the silence any longer.

"It's no problem," Max replied destractedly. "My family lost everything back in 1929."

Sammy nodded gravely. He'd been born a only few months before the stock market crashed, and he'd grown up through the Depression hearing tales about the bank runs and the homeless families and everyone trying to get back on their feet.

"But we were lucky. We had a lot of people help us out when we had less than a penny to our name, so we've made it our duty to help anyone down on their luck now that we're on our feet again."

"I really appreciate it," Sammy offered. "I've had a very long, very strange day."

"We both have," Albert chimed in.

"How strange?" Max asked mildly.

"Fire-breathing goat strange."

Max didn't take his eyes off the road, but his sudden silence told Sammy that his answer might not have sounded slightly less sane than a Good Samaritan would like to hear from someone he was opening his house to.

"I'm joking," Sammy amended quickly. "It's a habit. It gets me in trouble all the time, like back at school one time I was doing this great impression of our History teacher, Mr. Kirst. See, Kirst says everything in a reaallly slllooow monnottonne liike thiis. I was _nailing_ it, and it was really very funny, but suddenly all the kids stopped laughing. Of course I turn around and Kirst is right behind me."

Albert flinched, so Sammy guessed that white schools had the same attitude as colored schools about that sort of thing.

Max chuckled. "I bet that went over well."

"Oh _wonderful_. Mr. Kurst gave me a big ol' pat on the back and said that was the best interpretation of himself he'd ever seen."

"Really?" Albert asked with complete seriousness.

Sammy laughed, his fingers drumming a rhythm on his kneecap. "Kid, you need to familiarize yourself with the delicate art of sarcasm. My backside is _still_ sore from the paddling I got that day."

"Really?"

"No. That was exaggeration for dramatic affect."

"Oh," Crazy Kid mumbled. Sammy chuckled. Apparently Athena wasn't the goddess of humor.

Finally Max managed to steer them through the storm to his home. It was a small farmhouse, nothing fancy as far as Sammy could see, though with all the snow it could have had a gold plated roof and he would never have known.

Sammy carried Albert ride piggyback so the younger boy wouldn't have to put weight on his injured ankle, and Max kept one hand on them in case Sammy slipped on the icy cobblestones to the house.

As soon as they entered the house, they were greeted by a skinny woman who had to be Max's mother.

"Oh thank goodness you've come home safe. I was so worried when I saw that storm pick up."

"Don't worry, Ma, I'm fine. I've got the food and supplies in the car. What I could get anyway, with so much going to the war effort. There's talk of organized rationing."

"I don't doubt it will come to that," Max's father said as he entered the room, a younger girl and boy behind him. He paused to look over Sammy and Albert. "And who have you brought with you?"

"Half-frozen roadkill," Sammy informed him.

Max blushed as his mother rounded on him.

"Maxie, have you been driving over the speed limit again? You can be so reckless-"

"No ma'am, it's not Max's fault. We ran into the road, well, _I_ ran into the road without realizing it in the snow."

This seemed to placate the mother, and she sent the boys out to bring in the groceries while she and the girl helped Sammy hobble over to a couch sitting beside the blessed heat of the radiator.

"You're heavier than you look," Sammy complained as he set Albert down. The boy shrugged sheepishly.

"Who are you? Where are you from?" the girl asked eagerly. Her mother gave her a sharp rap on the head.

"Jane! Don't you remember what it was like when we were wandering?"

Jane frowned and nodded. Sammy guessed she had to be about Albert's age, eight or nine.

"When you're down on your luck you don't always want to talk about those things. If they want to tell us anything, they can tell us. Until then, don't interrogate them."

Jane nodded and skipped away into the house. She returned a minute later with extra blankets, which she threw over the boys and began fussing over them like she was playing nurse.

The rest of the family rustled around, getting all the food where they needed it and shoving blankets along the frames of the doors and windows to keep the cold breezes out.

Finally the men settled down and turned on the radio while Jane and the mother cooked dinner.

They talked about the war, the family's pigs, the war, FDR, the war, and the snowstorm.

"It's really coming down out there. If this keeps up we'll probably be homebound for a few days. Hope you boys don't mind."

"Not at all sir, it will give my friend's ankle time to heal. We're sorry to impose."

"As I said, the Mueller family house is always open," Max insisted.

Sammy jerked back in surprise. This family was _German_.

The enemy.

Instantly Sammy felt ashamed for his own thoughts. He had no right to judge them. His family had come from Mexico a few generations back, but his loyalty was to America alone. If America were at war with Mexico, he would still side with America. He'd never seen Mexico. He guessed the Muellers were the same way. They didn't even have German accents.

"Thank you," Sammy murmured. "We really appreciate your kindness."

"Uh huh," Crazy Kid agreed absentmindedly. He was examining his ankle again. It had swollen up a bit more, but it didn't look too terrible.

"Boys and men! Food's ready!"

Max and the younger boy leapt to their feet and raced for the kitchen. Sammy followed, helping Albert limp along, following the sweet smell of fresh bread.

...

That night they dragged out an old mattress for Sammy and Albert to sleep on, though Sammy opted to use the couch so his twitchiness and flipping around to find a comfortable position wouldn't disturb the younger boy.

Sammy figured he would have a hard time getting to sleep, but thankfully his race from the chimera and then hike through the blizzard had tired him out enough to give him a long, peaceful night.

...

The next day Sammy borrowed an old coat, scarf, and snow boots and they trudged out with the other men to tend the pigs, carrying buckets of table scraps and corn meal.

The snow was at least six inches deep, and still falling gently. Sammy didn't like that one bit. He didn't want to keep mooching off of the Muellers, and the longer he stayed here, the longer it would take to reach Camp Half-Blood, and the longer it would be before he could find Hazel. He still had a horrible feeling of impending doom whenever he thought about her. He slipped his hand into his pocket and fingered the bag of cursed jewels.

The pigs weren't very happy about the snow either. They squealed and grunted and complained from the moment they opened the barn door until the moment they were tossed their food. After they had been fed, the men went in to clean up the stalls.

It was not an easy task.

Sammy had worked with horses for years now, but these pigs were even worse. They were huge, strong, and stubborn. If they decided they wanted to be somewhere they would go straight there, knocking aside anyone that got in their way. They were smart enough to realize that Sammy was about half their weight, and he didn't stand a chance. Still, he was glad for the work since it gave him a way to help the Muellers and keep his mind busy.

When the pigs' stalls were clean they moved on to nailing ragged old blankets Max had bought the previous day over the doors to help keep the barn warm. Then they left the barn and carried coal into the basement for the furnace. By that time the snow had stopped falling and the sun had come out. Hopefully he and Crazy Kid would be able to leave soon.

They spent the rest of the day inside. Sammy told stories to amuse the others, and Albert listened to all of it with rapt attention, missing most of the punch lines, but he seemed to enjoy himself anyway. Jane and her mother were knitting. The men sat around and talked.

It was a quiet, if slightly boring evening.

...

The knock on the door came that night, as the family was preparing for bed. Sammy was the first to the door, but he remembered that this was not his house, so he waited for Mr. Mueller to open the door.

Standing in the snow was a girl. Maybe a year or two older than Sammy, wearing a long dress and a blanket that covered her head. She looked like she might be Greek or Spanish, with large dark eyes that seemed to shimmer in the light. She her entire form was quaking with cold.

"Hello, sir," she murmured, casting her eyes down. "I've lost my way. I know it is very rude of me, but I was wondering if I could warm up here?" She turned her gaze up to Mr. Mueller, and Sammy knew that no man would ever be able to say no to that look.

"Of course, of course. Come right in."

The girl smiled and swept into the room. As she passed Sammy, he caught a whiff of roses and freshly washed horses. A strange smell for a wandering girl in the middle of winter. He wondered where she had come from.

As she entered the room, her gaze locked onto Albert, and the boy froze. The girl smiled.

"Hello, child," she murmured.

"Hi," Albert grumbled. Sammy gave him a glare to remind him to be polite.

The girl seemed exhausted. When she saw Albert's mattress on the floor she fell down on it with a squeak of old springs. For a moment she glanced up at Sammy and smiled shyly. But a then she closed her eyes and seemed to fall asleep instantly.

Even asleep, there was something about her that demanded Sammy's full attention. he studied her, searching for any clue about who she might be.

"Oh the poor girl," Mrs. Mueller cooed as she marched in. "Look how tired she is. Jane, go clean up your room."

"Why?"

"We're going to put her in your bed and you will sleep with me and your father. That way Sammy and Albert can use this room like last night."

Sammy thought he saw the mysterious girl frown, but if it happened, it disappeared so fast Sammy couldn't be sure what he had seen.

Jane ran off to get her room ready while Mrs. Mueller, in a show of strength that startled Sammy, lifted the girl and carried her away into the house. Sammy watched as she disappeared around the corner, a lock of wavy black hair curling over her nose.

"Stop staring at her," Albert grumbled as Sammy sat back down on the couch, his mind rolling through theories about the mysterious girl.

"Al, be nice."

"I don't like her."

"Just because she called you 'child'?"

"No. I have a bad feeling about her."

"What, does she have any extra heads I can't see?"

Crazy Kid reluctantly shook his head.

"If she looks normal to you, we should be fine, right?"

Albert's frown deepened and he reached inside his jacket to where he had hidden his knife. "Maybe I should stab her. If it hurts her, she's a monster, if it passes through her, she's a mortal."

"_Albert_, what would the Muellers think if they saw you? What would the girl think?"

"Oh, _heavens_, what would the _Girl_ think?"

"I didn't say it that way."

"Yes you did. You were staring at her too."

"I wasn't staring! I was just looking at her. You were too."

Albert glared at him. "I have a bad feeling about her."

Sammy groaned.

"She's just a skinny little girl, what harm could she be?"

"I don't know."

"See? You're just in a bad mood because of your ankle. Why don't you get to sleep? If the weather's nice tomorrow we might be able to leave. It's a long way to New York."

Albert grunted and walked over to the mattress. He still had a limp, but it wasn't especially noticeable. He would be able to travel.

The boy glared as he examined the blankets, like they might have been contaminated. Sammy rolled his eyes and flopped onto the couch. With luck, he would be able to get some answers about the girl tomorrow.

...

Answers didn't come quickly for Sammy. The girl was sleeping late, and they didn't want to disturb her. Even the smell of Mrs. Mueller's cooking didn't rouse her, which either meant the girl had no sense of smell or she slept like a rock.

Still, the breakfast was delicious, and afterward Jane and Mrs. Mueller said that they wanted to take a quick walk for fresh air. They had apparently spent five days straight without leaving the house, and they were willing to risk a slight chill in order to see something other than the same four walls. Jane insisted Albert join them to 'test his ankle.' More likely she just wanted to ask him more questions about New Orleans, a topic which had fascinated her yesterday.

So Sammy offered to wash the dishes for them, and he would join the men at the barn when he finished. The other boys looked grateful that Sammy had take the job. He tossed the scraps not worth saving in the pig food, and sent them on their way.

That was why he was all alone in the house when the girl awoke.

Sammy's sleeves were rolled up and his arms covered in suds. He didn't even hear her coming until she spoke.

"Good morning, boy."

Sammy whipped around. The girl looked different this morning. She wasn't wearing the blanket, so her long wavy hair hung loose over her shoulders. Her eyes roamed the room like she was searching for something. When she realized Sammy was alone, she smiled.

It wasn't the same shy smile as yesterday. In fact, it wasn't shy at all. It reminded Sammy of a cartoon cat that had just found its prey. It unnerved him, but it didn't matter. He couldn't look away from her eyes.

Come to think of it, he couldn't seem to move. He couldn't seem to remember how to command his feet. A plate slipped from his hand and back into the sink. He might as well have been a statue.

"So it is only you, the mortal one. Pity." She clucked her tongue disapprovingly. "I was hoping to find the little demigod. But it's no matter. I suppose it can't hurt kill you first."

She shut the door behind her with a click.

**.**

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**As always, huge thanks to everyone who is reading, and all reviews are appreciated. They make me happy, they make me write faster. I win, you win. :P**

**Also, here are a few minor points. One: Hillsville is a real place, I looked on the map. It just sounds like a fake name. Two: Pigs are huge, heavy, and much smarter than most people give them credit for. Three: Yes, Khione was getting very annoyed with Sammy, but she was content with giving him and Albert a scare, so she is not the mysterious girl now threatening Sammy. Four: I'm giving out imaginary cookies to anyone who correctly guesses what monster Sammy's up against this time. ;)**


	6. Monsters Make Such A Mess

**Author's Note: As always, a million and one thank yous to _everyone_ who reviewed. Oh my goodness, CookieHunterOfArtemis, you made my day. Thank you so much for all your reviews. When you said you were going to review each chapter as you went I kept reloading the page to see if you had gotten to the next one yet, and what you would say. XD **

**And of course I have imaginary cookies to hand out! Congrats to CookieHunterOfArtemis (by the way, your penname is awesome) and Splashfire, and a imaginary cupcake to Confused-Feelings for putting in a guess that while incorrect, is very, very, _awesome _(and possibly even better than the right answer). I had actually been researching Lamia as a potential monster for a later scene, and I agree that she is a great one. I probably won't get to use her, sadly, but she would be a great one. Maybe Rick will put her in at some point.**

**On that note, as always, I am not Rick Riordan, I do not own his stuff.**

**Ooh, and thanks for the virtual cookie thisismypenname97. It was delicious.**

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**Chapter 6: Monsters Make Such a Mess**

The girl walked across the room, slowly and elegantly, as though she were showing off. Sammy wondered if he had heard her right. He thought she had said she was going to kill him. That didn't seem very nice.

_You aren't thinking straight._

Well, maybe... did her eyes have a flash of orange in them? Or maybe red.

Gold eyes.

Hazel.

She isn't Hazel.

True. Hazel's hair was shorter, and she never wore dresses that were that close fitting.

The girl chuckled. She was a about seven feet away from him now. Some vague part of Sammy's brain realized soapy water was dripping off his hands all over the floor.

Did she really want to kill him? She gave him that smile again. A cat playing with a mouse.

He really ought to say something, but he could barely keep his thoughts from flying off in every direction. He had to focus, collect his thoughts.

Her eyes flashed again. Was it gold, or was that just what Sammy wanted to see?

She's not Hazel.

Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hadzel, Hamel, Haraa, Hehh...

Why was the girl grabbing his chin and moving his head around? Why did her fingers feel so cold?

"Well, well, there is something strange about you," the girl purred. Her face was dangerously close to his now. She raised his chin, then tilted his head to the side. "You poor little thing, your dreams are all so far away."

She put both hands against the side of his face, her dark eyes piercing straight through his.

"Such a pity. You know I can see your dreams. I can see your soul. Reaching out for what you will never have in this life. Poor boy. Perhaps it will turn out better next time. Your destiny is not of this time. You can never succeed in your quest this time. Such a sad little future. Ah well, I'm sure you will be delicious anyway."

Delicious. Sweets. Beniettes. A cupcake under a magnolia tree.

Hazel.

The girl was leaning closer and closer. Sammy was completely enclosed by that strange horse and rose smell.

The door to the outside flew open with a bang that made Sammy and the girl jump. She'd shut the door into the rest of the house. She'd forgotten the outside door.

"Sammy, that girl is asking a lot of questions! What do I-"

The girl turned her attention to Albert, her eyes narrowed to slits. The cat smile appeared again.

"Welcome to the party, little boy," she hissed. She leapt at him, knocking the boy away from the door, which she shut and locked like the first. There was no way out now. "Good. I'm ready for breakfast."

Albert stared at her in building horror. He whipped out his knife and swung it clumsily at her.

"So rude!" The girl exclaimed, charging toward Albert. The boy screamed.

"Sammy! Help!"

Sammy staggered forward, his legs coming back under his control. He slid on the puddle of water and flew into the chair where he had put his suitcoat. He tried to grab the back to stabilize himself, but the chair's legs slipped out from under it. The chair flew, knocking out the girl's legs, and Sammy fell flat on his stomach.

Sammy hit the floor hard, bonking his forehead against the hard wood. The pain seemed to clear his mind, and for the first time since the girl entered the room, Sammy realized he was in danger.

He scrambled to get up, sliding on the water. The girl was doing the same, but her glare faded to interest when she saw something on the floor to Sammy's right.

The leather bag had fallen out of his jacket pocket and burst open. Jewels lay scattered, surrounding a one dollar bill.

A trip to the movies with Hazel.

The girl lunged for them.

Sammy didn't think. He spun on his backside and kicked her square in the nose, the hard sole of his shoe making a sickening crack as it collided.

The girl shrieked and covered her nose. Blood trickled between her fingers.

Blood that for an instant looked gold instead of red.

"I'll kill you for that!" she screamed, leaping at Sammy. He kicked out again, sending her flying into the table.

"Wasn't that your plan already?" Sammy asked. Oddly enough, the idea that she wanted to kill him didn't bother him that much. Maybe he should hit his head again, his mind was going blurry.

The girl stood, towering over him. Sammy scrambled backward.

Albert jumped at the girl and tried to stab her. She sidestepped him easily, knocking the knife out of his hand, which flew straight through Sammy and banged into the opposite wall.

The girl smiled at Albert. For a moment the boy paused.

She picked him up and threw him against the wall, snarling like and animal. There was bloodlust in her eyes; she looked ready to rip the boy apart.

Sammy grabbed the knife and jumped between the girl and Albert, holding the knife in front of him with both hands.

The girl laughed. She was beautiful when she laughed.

"Come now, Sammy. You wouldn't hurt a girl, would you?"

Sammy's mind turned to mush again. He didn't want to hurt a girl. His hands fell to his sides, his grip on the knife loose.

She smiled.

"Good boy. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to eat you now. You don't mind, I'm sure."

She gave him one last mind-blowing smile and lunged.

But jerked to a stop a few feet away.

She looked down in shock at the knife embedded in her stomach.

And then she exploded into dust.

For a long moment, all Sammy could do was stare at the spot where she had been, gazing at his own extended arm, his fist clenched around the knife's hilt.

He dropped his arm and looked at the pile of dust.

"Sorry about that," Sammy muttered. "But I sorta do mind. I like being alive. It suits me."

Albert limped around him to look at the dust. He kicked it, but nothing happened.

"That was really scary."

"What did she look like to you?" Sammy asked. A terrible guilt was already sinking in. He'd killed a girl. True, she had been trying to kill _him_. It had been self defense, more instinct than any great force of will, but that wasn't what men were supposed to prioritize. They were supposed to protect women and children first.

"Her hair was made of fire, her skin was pale as death, and she had red eyes."

Sammy frowned, inside relieved to hear proof that she wasn't human. "Was she some sort of Greek Vampire?"

Albert shrugged, he'd noticed the spilled jewels now, and they were demanding his full attention. He staggered toward them, but Sammy grabbed his arm.

"Don't touch those. They're cursed."

Albert's eyes grew even wider. "Oh. So is that what you put in the fish? Is that why the chimera had bad luck at the factory?"

"Yep." Sammy pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket and began carefully putting the jewels back in their bag. He realized it probably hadn't been his smartest move when he kicked her away from the cursed gems. But then, he hadn't really been thinking clearly the entire time the vampire girl had been in the room. He hadn't even thought about the curse, just the fact that they were the only link he had left to Hazel and his old life.

He stood and flinched. He was going to have quite a lot of bruises from this mishap.

"Al, what are the odds that this was completely random?"

"This _and_ the chimera? Probably zero. These monsters are targeting me." The poor kid looked terrified. "So would you just trust me next time I say I have a bad feeling about something?"

Sammy laughed. "Yeah, it looks like that would be a good idea." He flipped the knife around in his hand. "From here on out, how about you be the eyes, and I'll be the muscle. You're more of a danger to yourself than to monsters with this thing."

Albert flushed. "I guess. Athena is a war goddess. It should come more naturally to me."

"Hey, she's also the goddess of weaving. Maybe that's your talent."

Albert glared at him and Sammy laughed. The boy snatched his knife back and put it in the hidden sheath.

Sammy sighed as he glanced at the mess they had made of the Mueller's kitchen.

"Let's get this cleaned up before anyone comes back here and thinks we're horrible house guests. We're leaving tomorrow. Since you seem to be the special of the week on the monster menu, we probably shouldn't hang around anywhere too long."

"Yeah. I don't like being on the menu."

Sammy chuckled and pulled a dustpan out of the closet. "Neither do I."

...

_January 5, 1942_

"It's still strange that the girl left without even taking breakfast. Poor girl, I hope she's alright."

"Yeah, poor girl," Sammy muttered, keeping his eyes fixed on the landscape outside the car windows.

Max chuckled. "I guess you never know what's going on in another person's life. Where did you two say you were going again?"

"New York. Albert has relatives up there."

"That's good. And that reminds me, those coats in the back are for you. They're too small for me and Jack."

"No! We can't accept them! You've already given shelter and food and-"

"And you've done plenty of work around the farm and house to help us pay us back. You two don't have coats. If you're going to go wandering around in snowstorms again, you will get frostbite dressed like that. Take the coats or Ma is going to have my hide."

Sammy sighed. He really didn't like taking charity like this. But he couldn't deny that he and Al only had clothes for a mild New Orleans afternoon, and nothing that could stand up to winter in New York.

He noticed Albert pull out his wallet. He pulled out a half-dollar, one of those cool ones with Lady Liberty walking in front of the sunrise. She reminded Sammy of a picture he'd seen of Athena. The boy glanced up and Sammy nodded. Albert passed the coin up to him, and he slid it onto Max's seat. Max was too focused on driving to notice, but he'd be sure to see it next time he got in the car, and by then Sammy and Albert would be long gone. It wasn't much, but it was all they could spare.

They finally arrived at the town. Max parked the auto and they hopped out.

"That road will take you north, but are you sure you don't just want to take a train?"

"We don't have a lot of money. If we try to by train tickets all the way, we'll run out before we reach New York. Don't worry about us, we'll be fine." There was no need to tell Max the real plan.

"If you're sure. Thank you for helping out with the pigs."

"Thank you for letting us stay with your family."

Max smiled. "It was the least I could do after nearly running you over."

Sammy grinned as he slipped on his new coat. "Well, that was actually my fault, but we appreciate it anyway. So, thank you."

"You're welcome. Good luck."

"Thanks. We can use it. We've got a nice supply of bad luck, but we never know where to find the good kind."

Max laughed, not knowing how literal Sammy's comment was. They waved their goodbyes and started down the road. When Max disappeared into the market, Sammy grabbed Albert's hand and they bolted toward the train station.

...

It was tricky to sneak on without being seen. There were men everywhere, loading supplies and shoveling coal. They were nearly caught more than once. But finally they found a cargo car on a train pointing north that they could clamber into. It was going to be an adventure when they had to get back out. But hopefully this would take them a state or two up.

"You better be careful."

Both boys jumped when they heard the voice. It came from a man in a ragged coat sitting in one corner of the traincar, on a pile of crates.

"It's best to jump when the train slows for a turn a couple miles out from the station. They don't take kindly to tramps at the next stop."

"Oh, thank you, sir."

The man's face contorted in fury, and for a moment Sammy wondered if he had said something rude without thinking. But no, he had only said 'thank you.' But... that phrase had never caused this sort of reaction before.

"I wasn't talking to _you_, pachuco scum! I was talking to the white boy. You can go jump in a furnace for all I care! You an the rest of those damn colored cockroaches who swarmed up from the south and stole the jobs from all us white men. Go hang."

Sammy stumbled back in shock. He'd heard his share of nasty insults, but this... this made his stomach churn.

The worst part was the man believed every word he said. Sammy could see it in his eyes. He blamed Sammy for his troubles with every fiber of his being. It scared Sammy more than the chimera and the crazy vampire girl all rolled into one.

It must have scared Albert too, because the younger boy whimpered and backpedaled until he hit Sammy's stomach.

Sammy didn't know what to say. He took Albert's hand and pulled him back to the farthest corner of the traincar. They climbed onto a tall stack of crates, hiding like cats up a tree. The man glared at them with a cold, fiery hatred that seemed to suck all the air from Sammy's lungs. Albert pulled out his knife. It wouldn't do them any good, but the tramp didn't know that. His eyes narrowed and he retreated farther back into his corner.

Albert glanced back at Sammy. The poor boy really was spooked. His hands were trembling and Sammy realized that his own were doing the same.

Sammy put on his best, 'don't worry, he's just an idiot' smile. His stomach was still clenched like he might throw up, but he didn't want to let Albert know that.

"I-I'm sorry," Albert murmured.

Sammy let out a little laugh. "It's not your fault. You're nothing like him."

Albert smiled weakly and snuggled up against Sammy's side. Sammy patted him on the shoulder, but he was watching the hateful man out of the corner of his eye, and he knew Albert was doing the same. They weren't going to feel safe again until they were out of his presence.

The train's whistle blew and they jolted into motion. The hateful man grunted, and muttered a few obscenities under his breath.

It was going to be a long ride.

**.**

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**.**

**Sorry to end on such a dark note, but I did warn you that I was going to show quite a lot of the racism of the times. Even in the northern states there was quite a lot of racism, in part, as the man mentioned, because as more blacks and other minorities came north, they were willing to work for less money (or employers refused to pay them as much), so they took over lots of low paying positions. This mindset stretches back to before the civil war, when one of the anti-abolition arguments was that the freed slaves would take over the market of lower waged work, and poor white men would be unable to find jobs. It even continues in a form today, mostly focused on illegal immigrants. This is why there is a periodic fuss about security on the border between Mexico and the United States.**

**But don't worry. That man does nothing more than make the trip uncomfortable for Sammy and Albert. He hops out, and they wait a little while before doing the same so they don't run into him again.**

**Also, you may notice that the empusa had much stronger hypnotizing powers on Sammy than the two in Battle of the Labyrinth had on Percy. That was intentional. Percy had been trained to fight for his life for years by then, and he displayed a fair amount of suspicion at anything that seems strange. Sammy only found out about monsters two days ago, he's never encountered a humanoid one, and he comes from an era when women were considered physically weak. Therefor, Sammy is much more trusting and untrained than Percy, which allowed the empusa greater control, and prevented him from really seeing through the Mist at all.**

**As always, reviews are very, very much appreciated. Final exams are this Tuesday, so it is doubtful that I will be able to update before then, but I promise it will be worth the wait. Sammy gets to have a lot more fun next chapter and show off the zany personality we know an love in his Leo form. **


	7. Poem For Your Thoughts?

**Author's Notes: First of all, I offer my deepest apologies for the delay on this chapter. Finals+chaos+a tricky chapter to write=far to much delay. Hopefully, this chapter was worth it, since it does include one of my favorite scenes, and it is a nice long chapter. I promise to get the next chapter up as soon as possible. **

**And for those of you who remember the racist jerk from the last chapter, don't worry, the Furies may be busy with the war, but he is on their list. They _will_ catch up with him sooner or later. And they will not be in a good mood when they do.**

**As always, thank you so, _so_ much to everyone who reviewed. I'm so glad you're all enjoying this story. It makes my day to read your reviews. I'm glad you liked Al's 'snuggling up to Sammy' scene, TimeToWake. It was one of my favorites too. I really enjoy writing Sammy and Al's interactions, though I'm only going to have one more 'traveling' scene. I could probably write a full story just about Sammy and Al traveling up the Atlantic Coast, but that would get away from the point of this story. So next chapter should be very eventful. ;)**

**As always, I am not Rick Riordan, and I do not own his characters, world, etc. I also do not own Anchors Away, the US Navy theme song. (PS: The lyrics I've used are from the pre1950s version, so it may not be easily recognizable. But this is the version that would have existed in Sammy's time.)**

**Also, I apologize. You'll know what I'm apologizing for when you read it, so once again, I offer my deepest apologies.**

**So without further ado:**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Chapter 7: Poem For Your Thoughts?**

_February 3, 1942_

They took a wrong turn somewhere around Delaware. Albert blamed Sammy for not asking for directions. Sammy blamed Albert for making him ask for directions. The shopkeeper they had asked obviously didn't have his states straight. Albert said Sammy didn't have his states straight. Finally they compromised and decided that some god had moved the states around for a little while, just to confuse them.

One way or another, they had gotten completely turned around and had to double back a couple times to figure out which way they should be going. They turned around when they realized they'd hit the Appalachian Mountains. Sometimes they hitched a ride on trains or in cars with friendly drivers. The problem was that with the war on, suddenly gas wasn't easily available, so few people would go on long pleasure cruises anymore, so they rarely got very far this way.

At first they tried to bunk down at hotels and inns, but the problem was, most of the time Sammy wasn't allowed in the same places as Al, and if Al came into a 'coloreds only' place, he got a lot of dirty looks. After their scare on the train at the start of their journey, neither boy was comfortable with hostility from strangers. So they ended up sleeping in a lot of strange places. Abandoned buildings, against the walls of factories where the heat would reach them, park benches, even inside a spacious fireplace in the middle of nowhere (some sort of wood house must have burned down, leaving only the stone chimney).

The best was Crusty's mattress shop. Granted the owner was a monster who wanted to stretch Sammy and Albert to fit the mattress they were on, but once they killed him they had a _fantastic_ night's sleep. Monster he might have been, but there was no denying that Crusty sold a quality product.

Still, Sammy found that he didn't mind an uncomfortable sleeping spot so long as he could start moving again when he woke up in the morning. When he was in motion, he felt like he was making progress. Each step was a step closer to Camp Half-Blood, Hazel, and the new life he was going to build (not that this was technically true given the path they were taking, but still, it felt that way). When he was sitting still, all his fears and doubts (and sometimes Ancient Greek monsters) caught up with him. Would he ever see his family again? Were they safe? Was Hazel safe? What if they didn't reach Camp Half-Blood? What if the Japanese or Nazis managed to invade America?

He _had_ to keep moving. Walking, running, riding something, anything. So long as he was moving, he would be okay.

The good part of Sammy's obsession was that it usually kept them a little ahead of the giant lion that was chasing them (that darn thing seemed indestructible). The bad part was that his travel schedule was very grueling on poor Albert.

That was why he was now marching down a crowded street in Philadelphia with a nine year old half-god Crazy Kid riding him piggyback. He got a few raised eyebrows, but for the most part, everyone was too busy to pay much attention to him and his snoozing cargo.

"No fish. Bad fish," Albert mumbled. Sammy had quickly learned that Al talked in his sleep, and he had some pretty amusing dreams.

"Yeah, you show that fish who's boss."

Al's response was to snore in Sammy's ear.

Finally they reached a _very_ nice looking grocery store. They were desperately low on food, water, and bandages. Sammy bounced on the tips of his toes, shaking Albert. The boy moaned.

"Rise and shine, Rip Van Winkle. I need you put your pale, freckled skin to use again."

"Five more minutes," Albert grumbled.

Sammy rolled his eyes. "My back isn't going to last five more minutes with you on it. You're not exactly Jiminy Cricket. Besides, this is a _very_ nice place. They might have _chocolate_ in stock."

Al's head flew up.

"Alright, I'll go!"

Sammy laughed and knelt so Al could get back on his own feet. As soon as Al's weight was gone, Sammy stretched, his back letting out pops and cracks all the way up his spine.

He turned back to Al. "Remember, we need light, non-spoiling food. Preferably the kind that can be eaten cold, since we have clearly established that we both really stink at starting a fire."

Al saluted. "Yes, sir."

"Good. And stay alert, Owl Eyes. And if you think you see a monster, stab first, ask questions later."

"Sounds good. Try to not get yourself killed while I'm gone, Blind Boy."

"I'll do my best." Sammy realized he was tapping the toe of his shoe. "If I'm not here when you get out, just wait for me. I'm going to take a look around."

Al rolled his eyes. "Jeepers creepers, you have _way_ too much energy for one person. So go run a couple laps around the city if you have to, but don't take too long."

"Can do, see you soon!" Sammy called as he backed away up the sidewalk. Al shook his head and walked into the store.

As soon as Al was out of sight, Sammy turned and began jogging down the sidewalk. He could just barely hear the sounds of music drifting from the east, so that seemed like a good way to go.

As he approached, Sammy's heart quickened. It wasn't just any music, it was wild, patriotic, dancing music that was sure to be accompanied by something interesting. Sammy sped up as the music grew louder.

He was not disappointed.

In the middle of a grassy park, a whole slew of soldiers in fresh uniforms were singing and dancing in raucous celebration. Civilians were crowding around, wishing them luck, joining in the songs, clapping to the beat, and getting pulled in to dance with the soldiers (that last one mostly applied to the pretty young women).

Most of the men were young, eighteen to twenty-three, some older, some younger. One boy couldn't have been more than two or three years older than Sammy, not even old enough to register. He was either painfully youthful looking for his age, bribing somebody, or lying his rump off.

As Sammy watched him, he realized he couldn't even tell what branch of the service the boy was in. He was wearing army clothes, an aviator's jacket, and a navy hat over his curly blond hair. He was one of the most enthusiastic singers, dancing and bouncing around, showing off a smile bright enough to blind anyone who stood too close.

The last song ended, and one navy boy jumped on top of a crate and began singing Anchors Away. The blond boy whooped and joined in, the rest of the crowd following with zeal. Sammy beamed and began bellowing the words right along with them.

_Stand Navy down the field, sails set to the sky._

_We'll never change our course, so Army you steer shy-y-y-y._

_Roll up the score, Navy, Anchors Aweigh._

_Sail Navy down the field and sink the Army, sink the Army Grey._

A few army boys let the navy boys have a friendly wallop or two, but for the most part everyone was just having fun. The blond boy was jumping around and clicking his heals. In the middle of his dance he glanced up and noticed Sammy staring at him. To Sammy's surprise, the boy's bight smile grew even brighter, as if he had just spotted an old friend.

The blond ran out from the crowd, grabbed Sammy's wrists and pulled him into the dance.

_Get underway, Navy, Decks cleared for the fray,_

_We'll hoist true Navy Blue So Army down your Grey-y-y-y._

_Full speed ahead, Navy; Army heave to,_

_Furl Black and Grey and Gold and hoist the Navy, hoist the Navy Blue_

A few people gave Sammy a sideways glance, but most paid him no mind. Only one man seemed aggressive. He made a comment to his friend. Sammy couldn't hear the whole thing, but it included 'pachuco,' and it didn't sound very complementary.

The blond boy whipped his head around to glare at the man, and for a moment, his eyes looked gold.

The man who had insulted Sammy instantly tripped over his own feet and fell face first into a mud puddle.

The blond turned back to Sammy and flashed one of those blinding smiles.

He was not human.

Great.

Sammy smiled back as cheerfully as he could, praying that whatever this boy was, it wouldn't kill him before he could get back to Al and the Amazing Magic Knife/Sword. It looked like a normal human... well, an exceptionally handsome human, but a human nonetheless, which scared Sammy even more. At least the animal monsters were dumb and predictable.

But unlike the vampire girl back at the Muellers', or Crusty the mattress salesman, this boy didn't have an evil glint in his eyes. Maybe he thought Sammy was just a normal mortal, not worth killing. Or maybe he was actually a _nice_ creature from Greek Mythology.

Sammy sure wasn't going to bet his life on that, but he figured it was best to go along for the moment and scram back to Albert as soon as the blond lost interest in him.

The song ended and the blond boy cheered, flashing Sammy his blinding smile.

"Not bad, kid. Come over here."

Hesitantly, Sammy obeyed, following the blond out of the main throng. The older boy hopped onto a pile of crates and stared up at the sun, his hands on his hips.

"Posing for a 'Buy War Bonds' poster?" Sammy asked.

The blond boy grinned and hopped down. "Just enjoying the sunny day! The crowd is really jazzed, I bet my little brother is in there somewhere. Hopefully he won't get these boys too drunk right before they get sent off."

Sammy raised an eyebrow as the boy continued in a perfectly offhanded manor.

"What's your opinion of the limerick? I think I'm starting a limerick phase." He cleared his throat and recited:

_"There once was a goddess from Sparta,_

_Who said a few things she ought notta,_

_So I sent her over Prussia,_

_All the way to Russia,_

_So now she's wishing for a parka."_

The boy bowed and grinned, as if expecting applause. Sammy frowned, trying to figure out if 'Sparta' and 'parka' could actually count as rhymes.

"Come on, kid. What do you say?"

Sammy grinned.

"I say:

_There once was a boy in a park,_

_who came out from his cave for a lark,_

_and claimed to be what he's not,_

_for he's monster or myth or some lot,_

_and I really hope his bite isn't worse than his bark."_

For a minute, the boy just stared at Sammy. Then he burst out laughing.

"Not bad, not bad! It's been a long time since a mortal has poemed me face to face. I like your attitude. But don't worry. I'm no monster." He struck a heroic pose again. "Just your everyday incredible, handsome, powerful and awe-inspiring god of-"

"Arrogance?" Sammy guessed. He immediately flinched, remembering the story of Arachne, and his mother telling him to think before he let thoughts spew out of his mouth.

Thankfully, the god just laughed.

"Oh my, I hope you never come face to face with Zeus. He would fry you like a bug. To tell the truth, all us gods split that duty. However my specific realms are poetry, music, medicine, archery, and the sun."

He swept the hat from his head and held it over his heart, a smug grin on his face.

"I am Apollo."

Sammy blinked. In all honesty, he suppose he had never expected to actually meet a god, and certainly had no idea how he was supposed to behave. Should he kneel? That would seem really weird to anyone watching, so he settled for shaking Apollo's hand.

"It's nice to meet you, I'm-"

"Samuel Leonardo Valdez," Apollo interrupted, "Sammy to your friends, and most anyone else who knows you. Born June 14th, 1929. I like your middle name."

"Umm, yep. That pretty much covers it. I guess it must be fun to be a god."

Apollo winked. "Very. Especially when you're also the god of prophecy."

Sammy smiled in what he hoped was an endearing manner. It could usually soften his mother or Hazel. "Is there any chance I can convince you to use those powers to help me out?"

The god sat down on a low crate so he was eye-level with Sammy. He looked Sammy over and smiled like a cat in the sun.

"Us gods have been known to accept bribes," he purred.

Sammy pulled out his leather bag of bad luck. "I have some jewels, but they're all cursed."

"Not a problem, Sammy-boy. They are cursed to try to kill whoever touches them (other than Hazel or Maria Lavesque). As a god, I can never be killed, so the curse doesn't even try."

"Alright then," Sammy declared. "One jewel in exchange for information."

Apollo held up one hand. "Have I told you the story about the god?"

Sammy couldn't figure out how that related to anything, but he shook his head and settled himself on a crate to listen.

Apollo cleared his throat. "So once there was a handsome, friendly young god. He had a sister with attitude issues, and a father who suddenly got a whole lot stricter, with the war on and such. So this fantastic god couldn't tell a mortal he was yammering with that it would be much better for him to ask for _magical assistance_ than information that he 'may' have a chance to find out in the near future anyway. The end."

"What a fascinating story," Sammy enthused. "On a _completely_ unrelated note, I've decided I would rather trade a gem for magical assistance than information."

The sun god beamed.

"Excellent." He stuck out his hand. "Pass over the goods."

Sammy pulled out his handkerchief and poured out the contents of his leather bag. Five gems, one gold nugget, and the dollar. He'd spent one gem on the lion, using his good old fish trick, which was probably the only reason he and Al were still alive.

Apollo poked around in the glittering pile. Sammy glanced over at the crowd to see if anyone had noticed the priceless jewels changing hands in the middle of the park. Amazingly, not one person was paying them any attention.

When he looked back, Apollo was picking up his movie-day-dollar.

"Hey!" Sammy yelped, snatching it back.

Apollo looked at him with such pity, it made Sammy's stomach churn. But a moment later the god turned back to the gems as though nothing had happened and snatched up a diamond the size of a pea. He held it up to the light and examined it, then stuck it in his jacket pocket.

He then pulled a gold bag out of the air, unzipped it, and yanked out a small vial of a clear liquid.

"This is for you. It will allow you to see through the Mist for... was it four or six months? Maybe longer? I got this ages ago from Medea, and I honestly can't remember."

"Back up a second. What mist?"

"The Mist. It's the reason you can never see monsters for what they really are. It's job is to keep mortals from learning this is all real, but it can affect anyone. This solution isn't perfect, but it will put you on the same level with Albert. You won't have to jump every time you see a golden retriever and check with Al to see if it's the lion or not."

Sammy snatched the vial out of Apollo's hand and downed the contents in one gulp.

Nothing much changed.

"You look the same."

Apollo laughed. "Of course. You're only seeing a small piece of my essence. I'm also up driving the sun chariot, in a meeting with Zeus and the other Olympians, and wherever anyone is singing a song. Trust me, you don't want to see my true form. One look and you'd be a steaming pile of ashes. Which reminds me..."

That didn't sound encouraging to Sammy, but he stretched to see the next item Apollo pulled out of the magic bag.

It appeared to be a cardboard box full of gold caramels.

"This is ambrosia. It can heal wounds very well, but it is _**only**_ for Albert. Remember what I said about the smoldering pile of ash? That is what you will be if you eat this. And make sure Albert doesn't eat too much in one sitting, or he could combust. If he starts steaming from the ears, make him stop."

"Alright then," Sammy muttered, accepting the box. The smell was heavenly, and he was very tempted to take a bite. Just a little nibble. He shook his head, closed the lid, and shoved the box in his coat pocket. Divine as this food smelled, it probably wasn't worth burning to a crisp over. Probably.

Apollo reached into his bag again and pulled out a bronze lapel pin.

"This is for you."

"Thanks?" Sammy mumbled as he took the pin and examined it. It was shaped like a little hammer. But when he pulled the back clasp off to put it on, it grew into an actual bronze hammer with a large leather grip.

"Hammers aren't exactly common Greek weapons, but it will be good practice for you."

"Practice for what?"

Apollo focused on rummaging in his bag of tricks and didn't answer.

A sudden crackling boom made the mortals (yes, Sammy included) jump. They looked around for thunderclouds, but there were none to be found.

"That would be my father," Apollo muttered, yanking a few vials out of his bag and shoving them in Sammy's hands. Then he pulled out a short strand of thick cotton string and tossed it on Sammy's head. "These are for Albert. He'll know what to do with them. I have to go. I've spread my essence too thin, so I wasn't paying attention in Daddy's meeting, and now he's annoyed."

Apollo hopped up from the crate and winked at Sammy.

"Good luck. Keep your eyes open."

Before Sammy could even thank him, the god had disappeared in a flash of gold light.

Sammy stared at the spot where he had been. This had been a very strange morning.

He turned the hammer back into its pin form and clipped it to the lapel of his coat. He glanced at the vials. They were labeled with a lot of letters and tiny numbers that meant absolutely nothing to Sammy. Inside were a few liquids and little crystals like salt. He figured they must be chemicals of some kind.

"Where did you get those?"

Sammy yelped and jumped up from the crate. Albert was standing beside him, holding up a bulging rucksack.

"How did you find me?"

Al shrugged. "I heard patriotic music. I figured you would head this way."

Sammy chuckled. "I guess that works. You won't believe wha... oh no."

That stupid unkillable lion was stalking into the park.

Al yelped when he saw it, then turned to Sammy in confusion. "Hold up, how did you see it?"

"I told a limerick to the god of poetry, long story," Sammy muttered as he grabbed Al's sleeve and began dragging him toward the streets. "I'll explain later."

The lion roared and both boys broke into a run.

Sammy shoved one of the vials into Al's hand.

"Do you have any idea what this is?"

Al studied the label.

It had been at least a week since Sammy had called Albert "Crazy Kid," but the smile that grew on the boy's face could not have been applied to anyone who was sane.

He snatched the other vials out of Sammy's hands and began cackling under his breath.

"Al? What's going on?" Sammy asked nervously.

Al beamed at him with a maniac smile.

"We're gonna get to blow stuff up."

The glee with which he said that was certainly concerning, but with that gold monster behind them, Sammy decided that an explosion might be just what they needed.

"Keep me from running into stuff while I prepare this," Al ordered, uncorking one of the vials.

Sammy grabbed Al by the shoulders and steered him through the crowd. The younger boy started mixing the chemicals and shaking the vials.

"I need a wick!"

Sammy blinked and realized the cotton string was still tangled in his curly hair. He yanked it out and passed it to Albert.

"We need a match!"

"Did you buy any?"

"No! You told me to only get food that doesn't need to be heated, so I didn't think to get any!"

"Then we don't have any matches."

"This reaction needs heat to overcome the activation energy!" Al wailed. "I need a flame!"

"What do you expect me to do? Shoot fire out of my hands?"

"That would be nice."

Sammy rolled his eyes as Al started listing chemical reactions that could start a fire. Unfortunately, they were all out of raw potassium.

The lion was gaining on them. They needed a plan.

Sammy yanked Albert across the road. Car horns blared, but they made it safely across. The lion got delayed scratching up a car that ran into it. Sammy wondered how the 'Mist' could possibly explain that.

As they ran past a row of restaurants, reality finally struck Sammy.

He snatched the cigarette out of the nearest man's mouth and jammed the tip against the cotton wick.

"Hey!"

"Sorry!" Sammy yelped as he shoved the cigarette back into the man's lips and took off running after Albert.

"Sammy! We have to get out of this crowd! This vial is going to _explode_!"

"Alright, alright!"

The gold lion had apparently punished the car sufficiently, and it was charging after them again. It was much, much faster than the boys. The only thing that spared them was that it kept tripping or knocking into pedestrians. Still, with it's impenetrable hide and incredible strength, even the jewel's curse wasn't helping them enough.

Sammy glanced over his shoulder and cursed as the lion jumped straight over a street vendor's cart.

"Stupid jewel. Is a nice heart attack too much to ask for?" He grumbled.

"Sammy! A river!"

"Sounds cold, but it gives me an idea." Sammy grabbed Albert's hand and they charged across the street and over a fence toward the riverbank.

They skidded to a halt when they saw the steep concrete embankment holding it. The water was a good twenty feet down, and there was no way to climb the walls.

"Good, this could work." Sammy turned around and unpinned his new hammer marching back in the direction they'd come from.

"Holy- when did you get that?"

"A few minutes ago."

"That must have been some limerick."

The lion charged. Sammy held his ground for two utterly terrifying seconds. Then the lion leapt, and Sammy tackled Albert to the ground.

The gold lion flew over them, skidding to a halt on the edge of the embankment.

"Al!"

"On it!" Al shouted, hurling their makeshift bomb.

It landed with a clunk at the lion's paws. It looked down at the little vial, then up at the boys, as if asking them if they could possibly be serious.

The fire reached the chemicals, and the vial exploded with unbelievable force. The lion was thrown into the air, the concrete retaining wall shattered, the ground shook, and Sammy's bones rattled.

The lion disappeared as it fell down into the river.

Sammy gasped for breath. He felt like he'd been punched, and his ears were ringing. Blood trickled from a cut on his forehead, but he seemed to be in one piece. Albert jumped to his feet, his eyes glowing as he cheered.

_Note to self: be very careful when Crazy Kid has access to explosive chemicals._

Al turned to Sammy and moved his lips.

"What?" Sammy shouted over the screeching in his ears.

"Is it dead?" Al screamed back.

Sammy staggered to his feet and they peered over the edge.

The lion was alive, fighting the river's currents and trying to get a grip on the silt riverbed. It kept jumping for air, since apparently it's sword-resistant pelt was pretty heavy, and it kept sinking back down into the mud.

"I suppose it would be too much to hope for for it to just drown," Sammy grumbled.

"What?"

"Let's get out of here before we get arrested," Sammy shouted, repining his hammer and tugging Al downstream toward the bridge.

"Oh, and once we're clear, we're having breakfast. I'm starved. This has been a very strange morning even by _our_ standards."

Al glanced downriver at the gold lion.

"Honestly, I think a normal morning would be the only strange thing possible anymore."

Sammy laughed and burst into a run as the sound of sirens filled the air.

**.**

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**It's a good thing Apollo isn't a main character. It took me an hour and a half to make those two silly limericks. Ten lines. _One and a half hours_. I'd say I should steer clear of poetry in the future. XD**

**Also, one funny little note. Throughout the story I have used the term 'alright' and never 'okay,' because 'okay' sounds too modern to me. However, I looked up the etymology and found that both terms originated in the 1800s, with 'okay' actually appearing a decade before 'alright' (in its compressed form; before that it was spelled 'all right'). So most likely the characters should flip between them the same as a modern speaker. I just have a harder time picturing Sammy saying okay. Reality is unrealistic. I made a point of having Sammy say 'okay' in this chapter. I really overthink these things.**

**And, if anyone is wondering why I haven't addressed rationing yet, it's because the formalized system of rationing wasn't established until May. So for now, everything is still pretty chaotic as far as which stores have access to what, which is why Sammy wants to buy from a classy 'whites-only' store, which is more likely to have better stock.**

**As always, reviews are greatly appreciated. I read every one, and they really do make me want to write and update faster.**

**PS: I don't know if your alerts activate over edits, but I'm going to make a one change in the last chapter. I accidentally put 1943, instead of 1942 in the date. *facepalm***


	8. Magic Lions Are Hard To Kill

**Author's Note: First of all, once again, I apologize for the delay. My annual spring cold made me less productive than I should have been.**

**From the question box, Just Your Above Average Malfoy asked "If I'm arrogant, should I thank Apollo or blame him?"**

**Apollo, I assume you want to answer her?**

**"Of course. Obviously you should thank me. I am an incredible, handsome, mighty, arrogant god. In short, I am undiluted awesome (as pjoperson so kindly pointed out in the reviews). Therefore, if you are arrogant, it means you are one step closer to being like me, and thus one step closer to being awesome. It's simple math, really."**

**Thank you, Apollo. And thank you to everyone else who reviewed. It makes my day to read your comments. I was laughing as I read your chapter-by-chapter commentary, ummiuno011. I'm so glad you're enjoying this.**

**I also got an annonoymous review asking when this story would be about Leo instead of Sammy. Since we know much more about Leo's backstory than Sammy's, I plan to focus most on Sammy. I think I have around 10 chapters before we reach Leo (counting a few Esperenza-centric chapters).**

**As always, I do not own Sammy, Apollo, the Percy Jackson world, or any of the other wonderful stuff in Rick Riordan's head.**

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**Chapter 8: Magic Lions Are Hard To Kill**

_February 7, 1942_

_Sammy shuddered as the cold wind whipped through his coat. He could never have imagined it was possible for there to be a place this cold, but winter in Alaska was beyond anything he had ever known. He was wandering the streets of a small town, searching for someone who might help him find her._

_Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel._

_The wind picked up with a vengeance and Sammy flinched. He didn't see anyone at all. It was as if the entire town had been deserted. He wondered if they were sleeping. But the clock on the church tower said it was only six o' clock in the afternoon, though the sun had already set._

_A piece of paper flicked by, blown in the wind like a tumbleweed. Sammy picked it up and gasped._

_It was one of Hazel's pictures, a beautiful dapple grey mare she had drawn last summer._

_"Hazel?" Sammy called, but there was no reply._

_Sammy staggered through the snow in the direction the drawing had come from. He soon found another, this one of a elephant float from the Mardi Gras parade._

_They kept coming and Sammy followed them up the dark street._

_"Hazel! Hazel!"_

_Still, there was no reply._

_Finally he turned a corner and found the source of the drawings. There was a woman sitting on a rock, wrapped in a strange brown shawl, holding a stack of drawings and photographs. She would look at one, then toss it away. Sprawled across her lap was Hazel's only winter coat._

_Sammy frowned as he took a step closer. In the moonlight he could hardly see the woman's face, but it looked like her eyes were closed._

_She turned to look up at him, but her eyes didn't open._

_"Well, well. Sammy Valdez."_

_She tossed away another picture, and Sammy snatched it up._

_"Stop that. Who are you? Where's Hazel?"_

_The woman smiled, but it was far from pleasant._

_"Perhaps I am mistaken. I have seen that destinies are shifting, though I cannot see why. There is something peculiar afoot." She spoke softly and slowly, as though she were talking in her sleep. Even with her eyes closed she seemed to be studying Sammy. "But I cannot imagine why the Fates would choose you. A foolish, idealistic, scrawny, young mortal. My son could kill you with a flick of his hand."_

_Sammy's hands balled into fists. This woman spoke like that vampire girl. She had to be some sort of monster._

_And he was not scrawny. He was just having a growth spurt._

_"Who are you?" He growled. "And what have you done to Hazel?"_

_The woman chuckled._

_"You will never see dear little Hazel again, boy. You are a failure. Weak. Foolish. Pathetic. Give in. Surrender to the despair you are hiding, and you will spare yourself much suffering."_

_"Not happening." Sammy unpinned the hammer from his lapel and swung it in what he hoped was a menacing fashion. "Now tell me where I can find Hazel!"_

_"You will never find her. Give in. Surrender."_

_Sammy took a step toward the dirt woman, but a sharp pain between his shoulder blades knocked him forward into the snow and his vision blurred._

Sammy's eyes flew open.

"Get up! Get outta here! Sleeping on the library doorstep, probably drunk-"

"I'm not drunk," Sammy snapped, rolling away from another kick. "I didn't even mean to fall asleep, I'm waiting for-"

"I don't want excuses, boy! Get outta here!"

Sammy stumbled to his feet, trying to shake the memory of the dream from his head. He couldn't leave. He was supposed to be keeping watch in case that lion showed up, so Albert wouldn't be trapped in the library.

"Ma'am, as I said, I'm waiting-"

"Don't lie to me, you little cockroach. Nobody in here-"

"Sammy! Sorry to keep you waiting!"

Sammy had rarely been quite so happy to see Albert. The younger boy was putting on a big grin, but he had that gleam in the back of his eyes that told Sammy he was not happy with this librarian.

"You took your sweet time, Al," Sammy teased. "I fell asleep out here, you took so long."

The librarian was looking between Sammy and Albert as if the idea that they knew each other couldn't settle itself in her mind.

"You. And you?"

"Yep!" Albert chirped as he bounded over and slung his arm around Sammy's shoulders. "Sammy's my brother."

The librarian's jaw dropped.

It took all of Sammy's willpower to keep from laughing. He tried to keep his voice light and level as he joined in the fun.

"Yessiree. See, I took after Dad, Al took after Mom."

If life was like a cartoon, the librarian's eyes would have popped right out of her skull, they were bulging so much. Her brain seemed to have ceased to function.

"Thanks for helping me find that book!" Al called as they began walking away. "Have a great day!"

The librarian didn't respond beyond clutching her heart.

Sammy linked arms with Albert and pulled him into a run. The moment they were out of sight of the library, they began to laugh.

"Oh gods, Al, you're going to get yourself in so much trouble one of these days."

"Me? I'm learning from _you_, Mister 'What-Whites-Only-Sign?'."

"Learning from me? That's always a bad idea."

Al laughed as they turned onto the main road. They sauntered down the sidewalk, watching the cars roll by and keeping an eye out for that darn lion, or any other monsters.

"Did you find anything useful?" Sammy asked.

"Maybe. It's the Nemean Lion. Hercules killed it by squeezing it so tightly he strangled it. But I don't think either of us is strong enough to do that. Its pelt is impervious to all weapons, and its a child of Achidna and Typhon, just like the Chimera we fought back in New Orleans."

Sammy grunted. "That doesn't give us much new information. But at least we know it will die if it can't breath. That's the only plan I have right now. I just hope it works."

Al sighed and rubbed the bandages on his right arm. They'd had another run-in with the lion yesterday, and they'd just barely made it to New York City alive. Sammy was limping and bruised, Al had been cut by the lion's claws. Apollo's magic caramels had kept Al on his feet, but Sammy was exhausted, battered, and weak. They needed to kill the lion the next time they faced it.

And then they had to find Camp Half-Blood.

Al's father had told him to go to New York, and here they were. But they hadn't received any sign telling them where to go from here. Between the Nemean Lion and the other monsters that tended to find them, they couldn't afford to dawdle around.

"Take a look!" Al exclaimed as they rounded the corner. "The Empire State Building."

Sammy stared up at the structure. It was a beautiful, Art Deco-y sort of place. A teacher had mentioned once that it was a big deal when it opened. President Hoover had pressed a button that turned on the lights. But that had happened over a decade ago, when Sammy was too young to remember much.

"Nice," Sammy muttered. "Now which way to the docks?"

"We crossed a bridge to get here, so I'd say anyway. East would be best, since that's where the ocean is."

Sammy sighed. "I need a full night's sleep. You're right. East it is. At least I still have enough of a brain to tell me which way that is."

Al smirked.

"So which way is it?"

Sammy pointing in the direction his shadow was facing.

"Good. You do still have a brain."

Sammy smacked Al on the back of the head and they marched off toward the east.

...

It was no small feat to sneak onto a boat. Security was on high alert with the war, but for once the Fates seemed to be on their side. In the end, they managed to find their way onto a barge carrying mounds and mounds of coal. A few workers were milling about, unloading some of their supply, but it looked like the bulk of the shipment was headed to a different city along the coast.

Once they were on board, there was nothing to do but wait.

This did not sit well with Sammy, since it gave him plenty of time to think about how very many things could go wrong. The lion might not reach them before the boat left. The lion might reach them but then kill them before they could get it overboard. And if they stayed on the boat after it left, who knew where they might wind up?

His fingers drummed against his knee. He wanted to pace, but that might be visible from shore and give them away.

"It's alright," Al whispered. "This will work."

Sammy nodded. "It had better."

He grabbed a few pieces of coal and began stacking them up.

"What are you making?"

"A castle. Or maybe a house. Or an igloo. Whatever comes out. Hazel and I would build little buildings out of sticks and dirt on the playground a lot back in fourth grade."

Al grinned and began building up a stack of his own.

"After all your talk about this Hazel girl, I can't wait to meet her."

"Oh you'll get along great. Hazel's really sweet, so if you're nice to her, she'll be nice to you. And if you aren't nice to her I'll bonk you with my hammer."

Al snorted.

"But don't underestimate her either. She'll do anything she sets her mind to, and there's no stopping her. Like this one time we were playing after school, and we found a group of boys, maybe three or four years older than us, who were throwing a lizard in a pond. If it swam to the side, they would throw it back in the center. It was going to drown."

Sammy smiled.

"Hazel jumped right in that pond. She grabbed the lizard and climbed out and started running. Those boys were furious. They chased us for blocks and blocks. Their legs were longer than ours so we had to run as fast as we could. Hazel was soaked to the bone, and panting for air, and one of her shoes fell off about five blocks down. I picked it up, but she couldn't stop to put it back on."

"But she wouldn't have stopped. She would have run all the way to the Gulf if that's what it would have taken to save that lizard. And keep in mind, this lizard was biting her finger the entire time we were running. It's teeth were duller than a toothpick, but still. Finally she found this big old rock wall. The lizard disappeared into a crack in a second."

"Those boys weren't too happy with us, but at least there were a few nice adults around who made them leave us alone. So Hazel put on her shoe back on and we went to my house. It was closest and she was still soaking wet. My mom just about had a fit when she saw her, going on and on about how she was going to catch a chill. Of course, I only have brothers, so there weren't any girl clothes in the house, so she wore some of mine while we were waiting for her clothes to dry. It was pretty funny. We were only eleven, so you know, she didn't look womanly. I had her hide her hair in my dad's ol' porkpie hat and we tried to trick my brothers into thinking I'd brought home a 'new boy from school.' The looks on their faces when they realized it was just Hazel were priceless."

Albert laughed. Sammy grinned and placed the final piece of coal on the top on his black igloo.

Immediately the boat shuddered and the coal igloo crumbled.

"Just my luck," Sammy grumbled, rolling the pieces of coal back so he could start rebuilding.

"Uh, Sammy, I think the boat is moving."

Sammy stood and sure enough, their barge was being pushed away from the docks by a sturdy little tugboat. He bit back a curse.

"Already? My luck is especially horrible today. We should swim to shore and try again."

"I can't swim," Al informed him.

Sammy groaned. "Alright then, I guess we enjoy the free ride and hope for the best."

Al rubbed the back of his neck and opened his mouth, apparently about to apologize for his lack of swimming ability.

But instead his breath caught and his hand shot toward his sword.

Sammy whipped around and unpinned his hammer.

Sure enough, there was the Nemean Lion, stalking toward them, muscles bulging under its golden pelt.

Both boys backed up, stumbling over the coal. Sammy's hands were coated in black dust, and it was making it harder to grip the hammer. His heart was pounding in his ears.

There was no escape anymore. Either they were about to die, or the lion was, and luck wasn't on Sammy's side today.

"We need to get it over the railing," Sammy hissed.

Al nodded. "Whack it around with that hammer a bit. When it's disoriented, we shove it over."

"Simple to say," Sammy grumbled, but he charged at the lion.

The lion roared and lunged toward him. Sammy dodged and wildly swung the bronze hammer. It hit the lion on the shoulder, and the monster staggered.

Albert ran forward, leaping up the stack of coal and sending some sliding down onto the lion which growled its frustration and leapt up the mound, its claws unsheathed.

Al screamed and scrambled higher. Sammy jumped up and gave the lion's tail a furious yank. The lion slid back toward Sammy, coal flying as the monster lost its balance and began to roll. It slammed into Sammy and they toppled to the bottom of the stack, Sammy pinned beneath the lion's back.

Sammy was too dazed to get out of the way in time. The lion rose so it was standing over him, its paws on either side of Sammy's head. If lions could smile, this one did as it leaned in for the kill.

Al jumped on the lion's back and wrapped his arms around its huge neck, squeezing as tight as he could. The Crazy Kid was no Hercules, but the lion seemed to have bad memories from the last time, and in a panic it began jumping around and swiping at Al with its claws.

Sammy rolled out into the open and snatched up his hammer.

"Jump!"

Al obeyed instantly, flying to safety on the coal.

Before the lion could make another move, Sammy swung his hammer down with all his might on its head. There was a sickening crack, and the lion staggered back, dazed but still very much alive.

Both boys charged the monster and began shoving it toward the side of the boat. It swiped at them with its enormous paws, but they were fast. Sammy kept swinging at the lion's head, missing most of the time, but it scared the beast enough to keep it moving back. Al whacked it with his sword and shouted, keeping it disoriented. He smacked its paw every time the lion tried to raise it in attack, like a teacher rapping knuckles with his ruler. It didn't do any real damage, but it made the lion angry.

It was actually working. Moment by moment the lion was drawing closer to the railing, and they weren't giving it a chance to regain itself.

They were going to win this fight.

Sammy felt a surge of hope that gave him fresh strength. He struck the lion another horrible blow to the head, and it staggered into the railing.

No words needed to be spoken. In perfect unison, Sammy and Al slammed into the lion with all their strength.

The railing gave way as the lion lost its balance and rolled over the side.

And that is when everything went wrong.

In a desperate grab, the lion's clawed paw caught Sammy around the chest, dragging him down. Al screamed and tried to grab him, but the lion's weight pulled both boys over the edge and into the sea.

The moment he hit the water, Sammy's entire body clenched.

_Cold!_

For a moment, this one thought consumed all of Sammy's mind. His winter coat couldn't protect him as he went under, icy water flowing over the back of his neck and into his ears.

His one saving grace was the prick of the lion's claws on his side. This one bit of pain somehow broke through the rest and pulled his attention back to the moment.

Sammy shoved the lion's paw off of his side and kicked the best in the chest.

It clawed at him one last time, but it was sinking fast. Its heavy pelt weighed it down as it sank into the gloom of the ocean.

Sammy felt something yank the back of his collar, scrabbling at his throat. Without thinking, he jabbed his elbows back, colliding with ribs.

Air exploded from Albert's mouth in a cloud of silver. The boy continued to thrash, grabbing at Sammy in blind desperation.

He was going to drown.

Sammy pulled Al to him, and the younger boy wrapped his arms and legs around Sammy in a death grip. Sammy struggled to swim for the surface.

But they were sinking.

Waterlogged clothes, Al's empty lungs, heavy shoes. They weren't light enough. Sammy wasn't strong enough to pull them to the surface.

They were going to drown.

Sammy panicked and kicked out harder, but it did no good.

_"Give in. Surrender to the despair you are hiding, and you will spare yourself much suffering."_

_Never._

_"Us gods have been known to accept bribes."_

Sammy yanked the leather bag out of his pocket and ripped it open, shaking it violently.

Three jewels cascaded out, twinkling like stars as they descended into the gloom.

_Poseidon, save us._

Sammy didn't know if the god had heard. But it didn't matter.

His lungs rebelled and forced his mouth open, searching for air, but there was only water.

Sammy whimpered and wrapped his arms around Albert.

Water filled his lungs as he sank into the darkness.

He was about to give up hope when a pair of strong arms engulfed him, and he began to rise.

When they hit the surface, Sammy immediately began retching up water. He coughed and hacked, his throat burning, vaguely aware when Al began to do the same beside him.

Once he had expelled an impossible amount of seawater, he could finally take a full, deep breath. The cold air stung, but it was the best air Sammy had ever breathed.

He slumped back against his rescuer and frowned.

Sammy looked up in confusion.

"You... you're not Poseidon."

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**Ooh, mystery. XD**

**Next Chapter: they finally reach Camp Half-Blood. I meant to make that happen this chapter, but I always expand more than I expect when I write.**

**As always, all reviews are greatly appreciated and reread multiple times.**


	9. The Only Safe Place Isn't So Safe

**Author's Note:**

**Before**** you all try to kill me, please take a moment to remember that dead authors can't update.**

**I am very, very sorry to leave everybody hanging for so long. First Exams, then summer in the Brazilian Amazon, a summer class, regular school, and other writing projects all pushed this project to the back burner. I literally had this chapter partly written, but I just never got to it. Since there really is a big time and effort investment to writing (particularly a story like this that requires a good deal of research to make sure I get the details of the 1940s and Riordan's deity-filled universe right), it is difficult to write when I'm distracted by other projects.**

**But I'm back! :D And hopefully the fact that this is the longest chapter yet (previous record was in the 4,000 word zone, this is around 6,800!) will be a good way to apologize. And on EvilPlotBunniesRuleMyMind's suggestion, cookies for everyone! I'm sure I won't be anywhere near 3 updates a week, but I'll _try_ to get at least one per week. ;)**

**And on that note, thank you so much to everyone who reviewed last chapter, and those who kept begging me for more chapters. Without you guys, I probably would have set this project aside for good. But every so often I'd get an e-mail with your reviews in it, reminding me that I really do want to finish this story for you guys. It really amazes me to see how much you guys like this story, and your reviews really do give me a big warm-fuzzy feeling. :)**

**Also, during my extended absence, Mark of Athena came along and said that Leo is not Sammy's reincarnation. But honestly, I'm skeptical, and if it _is_ true, disappointed. As stated in my first note, the reincarnation concept is too intriguing not to explore, and this situation is the perfect place to do it. The only reason I can see for making Sammy and Leo nothing but relatives is to make sure Hazel ends up with Frank, which seems like a pretty lame reason to waste this perfect chance for a reincarnation plot. I'm utterly sick of love triangles, and I really do not like the way the Leo-Hazel-Frank relationship is shaping up. Most of their interactions in MoA seem to be Hazel either being unnerved by Leo or ticked off at him. If Riorden wants Hazel and Frank together, that's fine, but the last thing I want to see is the three of them (especially Leo) dragged down by some silly love triangle. That plot has been done to death, and I find that the longer they go on, the less sympathetic and fun any of the characters involved become.**

**But however that plays out, more likely or not, this story no longer fits in canon, but I'm just going to continue with my original plan anyway. About the only canon I will be breaking is ignoring the Sammy Flashback Scene from MoA anyway, except in Epilogue 1 (there are two epilogues, you'll see why when we get there).**

**Oh, and no one guessed entirely correctly who Sammy and Albert's mysterious rescuer is (though after all this time, you probably won't find the answer particularly exciting), but Hershey's girl was probably the closest. There's a reason Sammy could tell that this person holding him wasn't very much like his usual picture of Poseidon before he even looked. ;)**

**And to end the longest Author's Note ever, in case my little rant above didn't tip you off, I'm not Rick Riorden, I'm just playing with his toys.**

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**Chapter 9: The Only Safe Place Isn't So Safe**

_February 2, 1942_

"You... you're not Poseidon."

The woman laughed. She was incredibly beautiful, with bright blue eyes and long black hair. An aura of light surrounded her.

Sammy shifted in her arms so he could face her properly. He accidentally kicked Al's leg, but the boy didn't seem to notice. They were both soaking wet in early February, but somehow they didn't feel cold.

"And how can you be certain that I am not Poseidon?" The woman teased. "The gods have taken many stranger forms than this."

Sammy shrugged. "Are you Poseidon?"

"No. I am a Nereid. A sea nymph, in the service of Lord Poseidon. He appreciates your tribute."

"Huh?" Al grunted.

"I tossed him gems. Three I think."

"Quite lovely gems as well. I'm sure his wife Amphitrite will adore them. Now where is that _dawdling_ sister of mine?"

A second nymph emerged from the water.

"I was _dawdling_? You grabbed them both, so I thought it would be useful for me to retrieve their weapons." She held up the short sword and bronze pin. "Now hand me one of them."

"I have them. You can carry the little sword."

"Is this because I ate that last fried oyster you were saving? I already told you I was sorry."

"I have them," the first Nereid insisted, squeezing Sammy and Albert tighter.

The second Nereid didn't seem to like that. She grabbed Sammy under the arms and began trying to tug him loose.

"Ow!"

"Sister, you're going to break him."

"Lord Poseidon said we should each retrieve one. You know I'm going for a promotion! I am going to carry one of them, and you won't be able to say I didn't do my job."

She gave another sharp yank and the first Nereid pulled back. This was turning into a tug-of-war, and Sammy was not pleased.

"Ow. Ow! Stop that! **Yowch!** Honestly, **STOP! **In the past ten minutes I've almost been mauled, crushed, and drowned! I don't need you two pulling me apart! I've already had a old mattress salesman try to do that, and it was not fun!"

The first Nereid loosened her grip, and Sammy flew into the arms of the second. She quickly flipped him around so she was carrying him bridal style.

"See, was that so hard?" She demanded, then stuck out her blue tongue at her sister.

Sammy exchanged a glance with Al, who had his hands over his mouth, holding in laughter. Sammy rolled his eyes. Craziness obviously ran in the Mythological blood.

The first Nereid huffed and snapped her fingers. A pair of horses rose from the water, much to Sammy's confusion... until he saw they had fishy tails.

Just another average mythological creature.

The Nereids leapt on the horsefish and they were off. They bounded over the waves like a skipping stone, at least, one that had been shot out of a canon. Sea spray smacked him in the face. They were like a firework rocket, going faster than anything but an airplane had any right to go.

"Wahoo!" Sammy crowed, any lingering fear from his near-death experience forgotten. This was fantastic! Oh, Hazel would be so jealous when he told her about this.

"What's the horsefish's name?" He asked the Neriad.

"It is called a Hippocampus. And his name is Ptolemy."

"What about a hippo?"

"No, a Hippocamp- stop that!"

Sammy had grabbed hold of the Tomaly's reins and was leading them into a series of zigzagging turns. This horse was _fast_. Not brain melting fast like Hazel's cranky bay, but fast enough to leave Manhattan far behind them in a matter of minutes.

The hippo-horse reared and leapt over one of the waves, crashing down on the other side and splashing Sammy and the Nereid.

He had apparently gone too far, because the Nereid yanked the reins from his hands and threw him over her shoulder so he was facing the horse-hippo's scaly tail.

Albert laughed and Sammy grinned and pretended he was holding a fishing pole over the ocean they were racing across. He pretended to reel in a fish and throw it at Albert's head. The boy had really acclimated to Sammy over this past month, so without stopping to question the logic of their game, he caught the imaginary fish and threw it back. Sammy returned fire.

"What on earth are you two doing?"

"Nothing!"

Albert gave Sammy a 'I blame you' kind of glare, and Sammy tipped his imaginary hat.

Sammy was surprised to realize just how far the Nereids were taking them. They rounded a spur of land, a peninsula or island or something, and entered an enormous bay.

"Welcome to Long Island Sound," Albert's Nereid declared.

"Where are you taking us?"

"Why, Camp Half-Blood of course."

Half a second later the Nereids almost dropped both boys back in the water because they were cheering at the tops of their lungs.

_Finally_, they were going to reach Camp Half-Blood, their safe haven. The Promised Land where they would be safe from monsters, and Sammy could recruit a patrol of demigods to rescue Hazel.

They had done it. They had traveled cross-country, battled monsters, almost been killed on a daily basis, but they had finally made it.

Sammy glanced down at the leather bag still clenched in his fist. He glanced inside at the last of his treasures. A dollar bill, a gold nugget, and a blood-red ruby.

They'd spent one gem on the chimera, one on the lion, one as a bribe to Apollo, and three as a bribe to Poseidon. Hazel's curse had saved his and Albert's lives at least four times, probably dozens more than that considering how many times the lion had nearly killed them and failed. He'd have to thank her for that when he saw her next. Maybe it would help ease some of the guilt she felt for the times her gems had brought other people harm.

They reached a beach and the Nereids set him and Albert on their feet. In a blast of salty air they finished drying the boys' clothes.

"Thank you."

The Nereids smiled and straightened their Coast Guard uniforms.

"It is our solemn duty," the first Nereid informed them. "We are at the service of all who have the favor of Poseidon and- Panopea, that is my necklace! How many times have I told you not to borrow my jewelry without my permission."

"_Your_ necklace? You loaned this from Thetis centuries ago. Besides, _you_ never wear it."

"That isn't true, I was looking for it just yesterday-"

Sammy cleared his throat, and the Nereids turned back to him.

"You've set off the alert system by now, someone will be along to pick you two up shortly." She turned back to her sister. "You have no respect for personal property!"

Still bickering, the Nereids sank beneath the waves and disappeared.

Sammy and Albert exchanged a glance. Albert just shrugged. They'd gotten pretty used to strange stuff.

Which didn't prepare Sammy for what happened next.

He heard a thumping on the sand, like a galloping horse.

Assuming this was whoever had come to 'pick them up,' Sammy turned around with his best friendly smile.

The bronze dragon charging toward them was not smiling.

Sammy yelped and unpinned his hammer. The thing was about the size of a small horse, but its teeth were razor sharp, and flames were flickering from its nostrils.

The moment the beast was within range, Sammy dodged to the side and struck out with the hammer.

The bronze beast's head separated from the neck and sailed into the surf's edge with a wet _thwap_.

"Nooo! That was the last prototype!"

Sammy whipped around again to see a patrol of kids marching toward him wearing a strange combination of sportswear and ancient Greek armor. One muscular boy near the front looked particularly angry.

Sammy scooped the dented dragon's head out of the water. It was heavier than it looked, and one glass eye had completely shattered.

"I'm sorry. Can you stick it back on or something?"

The boy groaned. "Oh yeah, just reattached an automaton's head! That should be easy as putting on your pants in the morning."

A girl put her hand on the boy's shoulder to silence him. She looked to be about sixteen or seventeen, with long blond hair in braids and sharp grey eyes like Al's. Even though she was the only female in the group, she seemed to be the one in charge.

"Henry, calm down. Your automaton had a habit of trying to kill innocent bystanders anyway. Maybe you can fix that when you build a new one."

Henry rolled his eyes like he considered occasional murderous bouts a mild problem. "But who knows when we'll be able to spare the Celestial Bronze with everything going to the war effort. We'll have to put the blueprints in the filing cabinets, and it could be decades before someone tracks it down again."

"When you do rebuild it, maybe you should put in some sort of emergency release so that the head can pop on and off easier," Albert suggested, poking at the mess of wires spewing from the crushed dragon head.

"And you should do something different with the teeth," Sammy added. "See, these are too thin, a bunch of them are bent. If it was trying to grab on to something too hard the teeth would be destroyed. Maybe you can make them screws, that way they could drive into wood and stuff too."

Henry grunted and turned his attention to the headless body.

The blond girl stepped foreword. "Please forgive Henry's rudeness. Children of Hephaestus often lack the social graces."

"Hey!"

"But I would like to welcome you both to Camp Half-Blood." She extended her hand which Sammy and Al shook in turn. "My name is Abigail."

"Hi. I'm Albert Quincy. And this is Sammy."

"It's a pleasure to meet you. Are you a daughter of Athena?" Sammy asked. "You and Albert look a lot alike."

Abigail nodded. "I certainly am. Which makes me your big sister, Albert, once you're claimed."

"Claimed?"

"Many demigods don't know who their godly parents are. You cannot be officially be assigned to your cabin until your mother sends a sign to claim you as her son." She hesitated, then added. "It could take a while. The gods aren't very attentive at the best of times, and with the war on... but Athena is better than most. Hopefully you'll be claimed soon. And what about you, Sammy? Is your godly parent your mother or father?"

"Neither. I'm just a normal kid."

The demigods stared at him as if he'd just announced that he had polio, and they were trying to figure out why he wasn't locked in an iron lung.

"A mortal? Why are you _here_?"

Before Sammy could speak, Al stepped in front of him.

"He's here because he's my best friend, and he's saved my life, and he's helped me get here from all the way down in New Orleans, and he needs you lot to help save his demigod sweetheart, and he's my best friend, and he's a hero."

Sammy felt his face grow warm at the complement, and Abigail's expression softened.

"I can't remember the last time we had a mortal escort a demigod to Camp. You must be either very brave or very foolish. Either way, thank you. I'm always happy to find a new brother or sister." She smiled warmly at Al, then turned back to her company. "We'll let the mortal come. He's aided one of your own. It's the least we can do. You boys finish the patrol, and I'll give these two the tour."

The others shrugged and began walking down the beach.

"Are you coming Henry?"

"I have an automaton to clean up, thanks to our new _friend_," the boy snapped. He turned to Sammy and growled, "Are you going to give me back that head?"

Sammy raised the head and moved the jaw so it looked like the dragon was talking. "Aw Henry, Sammy is so much fun! He's my new best friend. Can I stay with him?"

The boy stood up, and Sammy noticed just how tough and muscular he looked, like he spent the day throwing around lead weights.

"Give me the head."

"It's all yours!" Sammy declared, passing it over. He gave Henry a big smile, but the boy only glared.

Sammy decided it would be best to walk to the opposite side of the blond girl with the sword as quickly as possible.

"So is this Fester guy the god of death glares?" Sammy whispered, gesturing to Henry.

Abigail chuckled, herding Sammy and Al toward a grassy field.

"Not exactly. _Hephaestus_ is the god of blacksmiths, so his children tend to be pretty big, and not always friendly. They get _very_ attached to their toys."

Sammy frowned. "I'm sorry I broke it. Do you think he'll be able to build a new one?"

"I don't know. That was the last of the bronze dragon patrol, and they were all quite unreliable. Honestly, I sort of hope they put that project away until they have time to make one that actually works the way it ought to. We're passing the vineyards. We usually grow excellent grapes here, give or take a prohibition streak or two, but with the war on we're going to be moving to more essential crops. You can see they're taking down the last of the trellises over there."

The trellises were _not_ what had caught Sammy's attention.

"Does that boy have goat legs? Is he a devil or something?"

"You can see through the Mist?"

"Yeah, I got a magic potion from Apollo a while back, but what's the story behind the goat boys?"

"They're called satyrs, they often serve the god Pan or Dionysus. They help around Camp and find half-bloods across the country. Everyone's being pulled thin with the war, so I assume that's why no one found you. And don't worry, they aren't devils."

"Good to know."

"So what is your story, Albert Quincy? Have you displayed any Athenian talents?"

"A few, and we have high hopes for his weaving skills," Sammy teased.

Al gave him a smack on the arm before explaining his chemist's skills to Abigail. Apparently the girl was actually extremely knowledgeable about chemistry, and their discussion might as well have been in Ancient Greek for all Sammy could understand, though considering the current company, he supposed wasn't all that unlikely a possibility.

He glanced around the fields, noticing just how pleasantly warm it was here, as though they had left winter behind in New York City. Out in the fields, a woman in dull green robes was wandering about, occasionally giving a lethargic order to the satyrs, who instantly obeyed. She kept glaring impatiently at the ground as though she had lost something down there and she wanted it back.

"That is Lady D," Abigail whispered. "She's helping keep an eye on camp, but she's always in a bit of a slump from fall till spring, so try to stay on her good side, or she'll turn you into a bowl of Wheeties."

Sammy raised his eyebrows.

"Good to know. So is this La..."

His voice trailed off as an enormous shadow passed over them, too large for a bird, too small for an airplane.

Sammy turned his gaze to the sky and saw one of the most beautiful sights in the world.

A flying horse, soaring on the unseasonably warm breeze.

That was when Sammy started to laugh. Suddenly it was beautifully, perfectly real. He was a part of this mythology now, he'd found a place where he and Hazel could be safe and happy. If there were horses here of any kind, someone had to take care of them. Sammy could take on the job of stablehand, stay here until he could join the war.

He broke into a run and raced after the winged horse, ignoring Al's startled cry. He was too busy studying the gargantuan feathers of its wings, the sleek pelt glowing with good health, the way its legs cycled as though it were galloping in midair. Oh just wait until Hazel saw this. She'd burst, just _burst_ with joy.

This had to be where they belonged.

He continued to chase the flying horse, stumbling over the grassy field, past a theater of some kind, inset into the ground. He noticed the boy on the horse's back seemed to be holding a huge orb of water magically suspended above his head.

Wondering at all the strange things, Sammy paid no attention to the buildings around him until the horse suddenly swooped low toward a small, brilliant gold building.

A few kids out front looked up and shouted an alarm, but they were too late to get out of the way as the horse's rider sent his water flying.

It crashed down on the boys, soaking them through. Sammy laughed as they cursed and shouted, pulling bows and arrows seemingly out of thin air to shoot at the boy on horseback. But the rider just laughed and spurred his mount, which swooped away so fast he disappeared into the clouds before Sammy could even try to follow.

With the distraction of the winged horse gone, Sammy suddenly realized where he was.

Slowly, he turned in a circle, his mouth falling as he took in everything that was around him.

He was standing in a clearing at the center of a horseshoe of small buildings. Each was one story, and not all that impressive in size, but they were all decorated so they looked amazing. Each was different. A gold one that was blinding in the sunlight, a bright red one with a boar head mounted over the door, a pair of Roman temples with gold doors, a cute country home with wheat growing on the roof, a chic little place with wrought iron accents full of little hearts that reminded Sammy of the nicest places in the French Quarter, a building covered with grapevines where one boy was sprawled half outside the window, laughing at passerbys and making a noise like a donkey.

It was strange and wild and it made Sammy feel right at home.

An odd synchronized clicking noise drew Sammy's attention, and he turned to see a flock of five girls walking toward him, the black plastic heels of their identical shoes snapping against the cobblestones. They were all dressed like they'd walked out of a movie, with sleeves puffed at the shoulder, short white gloves, and nylons without any sign of snags.

Sammy would generally have described them as quite pretty, maybe even beautiful, but something about the way they were walking in stride with each other and looking at him as though they were sizing up a potential new accessory unnerved him a bit.

But figuring it would be best to make a good impression, Sammy bowed at the waist, one arm behind his back, in a formal sort of gesture that he hoped would look amusing considering his torn, soot-stained, and claw marked clothes.

"Hello, ladies."

The girls stopped, but neither returned his smile nor laughed. They just studied him.

Finally one said, "Well, as long as he isn't a Demeter boy, we could set him up with Loretta."

The other girls nodded.

"Huh?" Sammy grunted, trying to figure out what they were talking about.

"He looks sort-of Hermes-ish to me, so I bet that would work," another murmured gravely.

Sammy blinked, trying to figure out what they were getting on about.

"Hey, Rose Patrol, go easy on the new boy."

Sammy turned gratefully to see Abigail and Albert had finally caught up with him.

The flock of girls giggled.

"Just checking out the new boy. He's not much in the muscle department, but I'm sure we'll find something that will work."

"Work for what?" Sammy demanded, getting more than a little fed up with this.

Abigail laughed. "These are daughters of Aphrodite, goddess of love. They're trying to figure out who they want to set you up with, you know, romantically."

Sammy lurched back a step, instinctively clutching at his leather bag of luck, whether for the connection to Hazel or the protection of his cursed jewels, he didn't quite know.

Al had no such uncertainty. "Sammy's already got a sweetheart!" he blurted. "He came with me all the way from New Orleans even though he's a mortal so he could rescue her!"

The affect on the Aphrodite girls was immediate and alarming. They all raised their hands to their hearts and began cooing stuff like "Aww, that's so romantic," and "Ohh isn't he sweet." They began circling him poking at his clothes and muttering about getting him something new, a couple began trying to brush his hair, and one tried to grab his leather bag.

For the thirty-sixth time since they had met, Sammy made a mental note to strangle Al at the next available opportunity.

"What did I just say about going easy on the new boys? Shoo, shoo!" Abigail ordered, waving the other girls away as though they were pigeons.

The oldest of the Rose Patrol gave her a withering look, but the distraction was enough for Sammy to escape their clutches just in time to hear a booming voice announce:

**"Fire in the hole!"**

Sammy whipped around to face the other side of the horseshoe in time to see a blinding flash of light. The accompanying _**BOOM**_ was so violent it knocked Sammy clean off his feet, which was just as well because it meant his face was down and protected when the pebbles began raining down.

As the dust settled, Sammy scrambled to his feet, knowing from experience that an explosion of that sort would have a dramatic affect on Al.

Sure enough, before Sammy was completely balanced, Al had grabbed his hand and begun dragging him toward the source of the explosion, a wild light in his grey eyes.

There was an enormous smoking crater in front of one of the little houses, so Sammy wondered if this was a prank like the water bomb, but all the kids standing around seemed quite calm, if a little singed.

"Well," one girl announced, pushing her thick goggles up onto her forehead, "I'd say we went a little overboard with that one."

"Yep, we'll have to recalculate the force load or we'll have massive collateral damage when we move up to full scale," one of the boys replied. He was utterly massive, with arms thick as Sammy's head. It looked like he might snap the pen he was holding at any second.

By this point Abigail had arrived, looking less than thrilled and brushing debris out of her hair.

"Didn't Chiron tell you to take your bomb testing back away from the cabins? You could hurt somebody here."

"Well, it wasn't supposed to be that big!" A short boy chirped, holding up finger and thumb in a pinching motion. "It was only supposed to be a teenie-bittie-little-tiny explosion."

Abigail raised an eyebrow, but before she could respond, a tall boy in an army uniform marched over with smug little smirk that instantly made Sammy wary.

"I say the bigger the better if were sending them over to those Nazi dogs. Let'um take a little collateral damage."

Sammy would have felt less threatened by this statement if it had come from someone who wasn't wearing a sword, a dagger, and a gun on his belt. He pulled Albert a little closer to himself out of habit.

Abigail glared at the boy. "There are innocent civilians in Germany, as well as our own forces and spies. We have to be careful and make sure we can control our weapons."

The boy wrinkled his nose. "You know, the one thing I hate about Camp? All these girls running around playing soldier."

Abigail's eyes were suddenly hard and cold as steel. "I'm not playing games, Tom. My brother is over there fighting. He could be killed any day. I'm not messing around with the weapons we send to him."

Tom grunted and turned to Sammy and Albert. He looked over them like a man inspecting pigs for slaughter. And he wasn't too impressed with the pigs.

"Is it just me, or are the the new demigods getting shrimpier and shrimpier. When was the last time we had a nice muscled guy, a Zeus or Poseidon boy?"

"Ten months ago," Abigail muttered, seemingly more out of habit of providing an answer than any actual desire to help. "But that's beside the point." She turned to glare at the kids who'd made the bomb. "No more testing blasts by the cabins." Then she whipped back around to Sammy and Albert. "You two come with me, Chiron will want to meet you."

The sound of a horn blew across the valley, and everyone jumped to attention.

"Looks like he'll have to meet them down at the campfire, it's time to toast weiners!" One of the miniature bombardiers crowed and he bolted back toward the the shore.

"I suppose so," Abigial murmured. She took a deep breath, arranged her hair, and gave the boys a small smile. "Come along. I think you two have a good campfire story to tell."

As with everything at Camp Half-Blood, the campfire was strange. The fire itself was clearly magical, since it kept changing colors, a lot of the kids in the front row were toasting frankenfurters on the tips of their swords, oh, and the guy who seemed to be in charge had the backside of a horse.

Sammy wondered if he'd recognize what most people considered normal anymore. But if this was his new normal, he sure wasn't complaining.

All around them, demigods were organizing themselves into groups surrounding silk banners. Sammy spotted the Rose Patrol girls sitting around a pink banner with a dove on the front, another dozen or so movie-star looking kids lounging around with them. Under a banner bearing a hammer surprisingly similar to the one Apollo had given him, the scary guy who'd taken care of the bronze dragon sat with a tough, motley crowd, including the bomb testing crew.

However, it was the two groups closest to the front that excited Sammy the most. On one side, beneath a golden banner bedecked with a lightning bolt that shimmered in the firelight were a collection of boys and girls who looked liked they'd stepped right out of a mythology book. The boys in particular were muscled and handsome, and they wore an air of confidence that made Sammy certain that they would be just the people to help him rescue Hazel. Opposite them, the group under the blue trident banner were a similarly powerful-looking bunch, though they seemed a little more... calm, collected maybe, than their blond peers.

Right in front, between those two groups, stood the centaur, and a tiny black haired girl who looked like she'd fallen out of the roaring twenties. Her dress looked like it had been splattered with dye, and she wore a strange collection of beaded necklaces around her neck that made Sammy wonder whether she was from New Orleans too. She wasn't wearing a dunce cap, but Sammy figured she must be in some sort of trouble if she was on a stool next to the leader horse-guy.

Sammy wasn't quite sure what to do, but Abigail gave his sleeve a tug so he and Al followed her around the fire until they were right in front of the centaur.

"Chiron, these two washed up on First Beach not long ago. This is Albert Quincy... I don't think I caught your last name."

"Albert Quincy Grant," Al specified, "Son of Athena."

Chiron raised an eyebrow at Abigail.

"Has he truly been claimed this quickly?"

"No, not yet sir, but apparently his father told him his full heritage. Rather unorthodox, but, well, I'm inclined to believe it."

"How do I get claimed?"

"There is nothing much you can do to rush it. You must wait until your mother sends us a sign to make it official. Athena is quite busy right now with the war, so it may take a little while."

Albert nodded solemnly.

"And who is this fine young man?" Chiron asked, turning his bright gaze on Sammy. The centaur looked a little wild to tell the truth. His hair wasn't slicked back or really styled at all, his beard could use a trim, and he was only wearing a button-up orange shirt. But his eyes were so soft, so kind, Sammy found himself trusting him immediately.

"I'm Sammy sir, well, Samuel Leonardo Valdez. I'm actually a mortal. I came to help Al, and deliver word of a very special quest."

He grinned as he saw the nearest demigods lean closer, their eyes brightening at the word 'quest.' Sammy was now one hundred percent certain that his plan would work. By this time next week, he'd be down here toasting frankfurters with Hazel beside him.

"Did the gods send you?" A tall boy from the lightning-bolt section asked. When he spoke, everyone around turned toward him, so Sammy guessed he was somebody important.

"Not really, at least, I don't think so, but Apollo helped me out in Philadelphia."

The boy nodded, his blue eyes revealing nothing about his opinion, so Sammy kept going.

"See, we're from New Orleans-"

"Speak up, we can't hear you back here!" One of the kids behind him called.

Sammy looked to Chiron to make sure he was allowed to speak here. The centaur nodded, and Sammy turned to face the crowd.

"Albert and I come from New Orleans," he announced, raising his voice so everyone could hear. All eyes trained on him, and even the fire turned low and quiet, like it was listening too. Such an attentive audience made Sammy want to ham it up more, so he decided to start with his adventures with Albert, and save Hazel for the grand finale.

So he started. It was amazing how long a few month seemed, but memories of things like being attacked by a fire breathing goat and a magic horse carrying him from New Orleans to North Carolina in a few minutes really didn't fade with time. The details of the trip were surprisingly fuzzy at times though. Lack of sleep probably didn't help that, but when he was in doubt, he just gave the most dramatic version of events he could think of, and stepped on Albert's foot when he started to contradict him.

Al seemed to be getting into it though. He raised the chimera tooth for everyone to see, and reminded Sammy whenever he missed something important or exciting.

The crowd stayed silent for the most part, but Sammy could tell their reaction from the colors the fire turned whenever he reached an extra exciting bit. When they almost drowned with the lion, Sammy gave a long pause, just to tease them, and the blaze turned white hot.

Finally he reached their arrival at camp. He glossed over the whole smashing-the-dragon-robot-thing, but he could see Henry glaring at him anyway.

When he paused to catch his breath before starting on the Hazel bit, one kid -an Athena by the look of him- raised his hand.

"I see a question from the Athena side," Sammy chirped, pointing at him. It felt good to be able to call on someone like a teacher. Huh, he hadn't even really thought about how much school he'd been missing lately. Well, a lot of kids dropped out of school around his age, but his mom had really been hoping he would at least finish eighth grade.

"You never explained how you got those cursed gems," the Athena boy complained. "You act as though you had them before you even met Albert."

Sammy grinned, pushing his homesickness aside. "I'm glad you asked about that. See, I did have them before I met Crazy Kid here, because he wasn't the first demigod I met."

He allowed the surprised muttering to die down before he stepped forward with his hands on his hips. As the anticipation rose, the fire turned an even brighter shade.

"One of your sisters is in danger. Her name is Hazel Levesque, and she's a daughter of Pluto."

All of the sudden the fire turned ink black and sank against the ground. The muttering broke out again with a harsh new edge to it. The sudden change in mood was tangible, almost like some of the winter chill had broken through, and Sammy took a nervous step back. He glanced at Al, but the younger boy looked just as confused as he was.

When no one spoke, Sammy swallowed the nervous lump in his throat and gave them a push. "Come on, guys, she's one of you, right? We have to go rescue her."

"No. We don't."

Sammy turned as the blond lightning-bolt boy stood. He towered over Sammy, though he didn't seem like he was trying to intimidate him. He seemed calm, but a little angry too, and Sammy instinctively pushed Albert behind him.

"Children of Hades, that's Pluto's original name, have no place here in Camp Half-Blood."

"Why not?!" Sammy demanded. He was getting angry now. He'd come all this way, fighting monsters and demons and mattress salesmen, and now _this_?

"Because they're evil spawn of the underworld!" the mean soldier-boy, Tom, snapped as he stomped down toward them.

"Tom, leave them alone," Abigail demanded, but Sammy pushed her and Albert behind him with a warning glare.

He took a step toward Tom, his hands balling into fists.

"Don't you dare say that again. Hazel is the sweetest, nicest, best girl in the world, so don't - you - _dare_."

He felt Albert shy back away from him, alarmed by this unusual show of anger, but Sammy didn't care. He was at the end of his rope, and for a moment he didn't care that he was small and weak and mortal. He just wanted to wipe the twisted smirk off Tom's face.

"Oh really? Well, want to meet a couple of her brothers. Gregori Rasputin, who cursed the last Russian royalty and took poison, a bullet to the head, and a freezing river to kill. Attila the Hun, who conquered his way across Europe, impaling anyone he didn't like on pikes. Suspiciously similar to Vlad the Impailer, his half brother a few centuries removed, who was the inspiration for Dracula."

Tom grinned like a snake.

"Oh, and how could I forget, your little sweetheart's big brother of the hour, Adolf Hitler."

Sammy saw nods and whispers flying around the circle and it made him feel like his head was going to burst. Why was the entire world so dead set on judging people they'd never met, just based on some sort of sick classification? And why did it always come around to shun poor Hazel?

"What is wrong with you people?!" Sammy snapped. "You're supposed to be half _god_, so why do you ask the rest of the world, just deciding this group or that group isn't good enough to breath your air? You're all bastards, a lot of you are colored, haven't you had enough of all this? How can all of you just treat people like that? Why the hell am I the only person in this world who actually cares about Hazel?!"

Tom towered over him, eyes sharp and cold as steel.

"Maybe because you're just as evil as her."

All his life, Sammy had been told to suppress his random impulses. But not long ago, he'd followed his vibrating instincts to kiss Hazel, and her smile had been enough reward to cancel the scoldings he'd received from parents and teachers and brothers.

Which is why Sammy made no attempt to reign himself in as those same stupid, perfect, dangerous impulses sent his fist slamming across the stupid ratfink's smirking face with as much force as his thin arm could put behind it.

The boy reeled back from the impact, and for a moment, he looked more surprised than anything else, as though he couldn't believe Sammy had actually dared to hit him.

And judging from the anger that crossed his face next, Sammy guessed it would be one of the last things he did, but dear God, it felt _good_.

"Who do you think you are, pachuco?" Tom snapped, whipping out his celestial bronze sword.

"Tom, that is enough," the centaur demanded.

"No, no," Sammy purred. "Let him take his best shot." He raised his hands and gave him a taunting half bow.

"Both of you, stop this."

"He asked for it," Tom laughed, sending his sword down sideways, to strike Sammy broadside across the head.

But of course, it passed right through his head and all Sammy felt was the breeze of Tom's arm swinging in front of him.

The older boy blinked in bewilderment and dawning comprehension.

Laughter rippled through the demigods, so Sammy turned an took a bow. Occasionally being mortal was pretty sweet.

It would have been a great moment if Tom hadn't spun around and kicked him square on the seat of his pants, which sent his sprawling straight into the campfire.

It might well have been one of the most terrifying moments in Sammy's sure to be short life as he fell into the blaze, his arms flying out to catch his fall even though the ground was the least of his concerns. His heart seemed to have stopped, his brain had blown a fuse.

But as he reached the magical fire, it jumped out of his way.

He hit the blackened wood hard, his face inches from the actual blaze.

And for a moment, Sammy was hypnotized.

It was like another world, a painting come to life. The swirling, flickering colors before him stung his eyes, but he found he couldn't blink

It was Albert's shout that startled him back to reality.

"Sammy!"

He pushed himself back onto his sore bum, his hands battered and blackened with soot, but essentially unharmed. The fire slid back into place, jumping around, and agitated sort of lime green.

"Don't you do that!"

"OW! What the-"

Albert was kicking Tom in the shins, and with their size difference, it looked like a chihuahua attacking a big hunting hound. If Tom had been shocked by Sammy standing up to him, he was completely baffled now as he looked down at Crazy Kid, but he probably wouldn't stay that way for long.

"Oh for goodness sake," Chiron groaned. "Homer?"

Sammy rose to his feet just in time to be knocked right back down as one of the black-haired boys created a small earthquake by slamming his sword against the ground. Around him, demigods yelped, Tom, Albert, and Abigail fell to their knees, and the little flapper girl's stool rocked dangerously.

"Tom. Go back to your seat."

Chiron sounded calm, but his voice had an edge to it that made even Tom-the-bulldog back obey.

Sammy scrambled up and helped Albert to his feet. He reached out a hand for Abigail, but she had already risen, wearing a boys-are-tiresome sort of expression.

Annoyed, Sammy turned to the crowd.

"Hazel isn't evil! All the gods are related, which means she's your family. Please help her. Help me. Please."

His gaze swept the circle, but whenever he met anyone's eyes, they shook their heads or looked away.

"Mr. Chiron, sir, please," Sammy insisted, turning to the centaur, "Hazel isn't like that. She's not evil, she's not even a little bit mean. Please, we have to help her. _Please_."

Sammy didn't know how old Chiron was, but at that moment, he wouldn't have been too shocked to hear that he'd been around for centuries. The weariness in his face reminded Sammy of a Great War veteran.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Valdez."

Suddenly, it all seemed to crash down on Sammy. All the sleepless nights and long days, all the fights and races, the sword fighting and mind games and enchantments, the claw marks on his chest, his near drowning, the bag of bad luck in his pocket, the injustices and bigotry.

It was all just too much.

Without thinking, without any conscious command, his feet slid into motion. He ran. Ran past the fire and up the stairs, out of the amphitheater, and over the thick grass, into the growing darkness.

He didn't know where he was going and he didn't care.

For perhaps the first time in his life, he wasn't running toward anything.

He was just running away.

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**((PS: in the real world, Rasputin was probably honestly trying to help the Romanovs (and his reputation, but he certainly had nothing to gain by hurting his money ticket), and also, the whole poison-didn't-work, shot him, he got up, fell in the freezing river and eventually died of hypothermia story was made up by his assassins to make him seem more inhuman and creepy (though just find a picture of him, and you'll see that was not hard _at all_).))**

**((Also, in case anyone is confused, Demeter is the one keeping an eye on Camp Half-Blood. Since Dionysus only got the job recently, and the Camp gets some income from agriculture, I figured she would be the best candidate for the job in the pre-Mr. D era.))**


End file.
